Mr Brightside
by Zaney HacknSlash
Summary: SEQUEL TO ON MY OWN! Sawyer told Jack they'd never see each other again, but the con artist has a way of showing up when least expected. Jate, some Skate and other things. No slash. It's a work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Bright Side

_But she's touching his chest now_

_He takes off her dress now_

_Let me go_

_And I just can't look,_

_It's killing me_

_And taking control_

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies_

_Choking your alibis_

The orchestra was warming up and the lights were glowing with dim warmth, the smell of flowers was in the air, and Jack's tuxedo was making his neck itch, just under the collar. He adjusted it for what felt like the one millionth time and prowled through the crowd, looking for Kate. People smiled at him as he passed, and whispered to each other. Some raised champagne glasses to him in a congratulatory greeting.

Jack tried to smile back, but he was sweating, and he felt nervous.

Up ahead, he saw his mother, talking to a woman he didn't know. Approaching quietly, he touched her shoulder. When she spun around he could see how completely happy she was, and that made him happy too. She'd never been quite the same after his father had died. That added to her only son getting in a plane crash had definitely changed her demeanor, and Jack hadn't seen her this happy in years.

"Oh there you are; we were just discussing you. You remember Mrs. Hamil, don't you?"

Jack nodded, even though he didn't remember meeting any Mrs. Hamil anywhere. She was a tall woman, with a thin, long face, and eyes that were set low on her face and seemed to be sunken. Her dark hair was boring, and she was wearing all black. It was no surprise he didn't remember her. But he smiled and said politely, "How have you been?"

Mrs. Hamil just nodded and took a swig of champagne.

That was odd, and sort of rude, so Jack turned back to his mother, "Hey, uh, have you seen Kate anywhere?"

Mrs. Shephard made a face as if thinking. "Not for a while, no. I believe the last time I saw her she said she was going out to get some fresh air."

Jack couldn't help going breathless over that. Kate had spent the last four and a half years in LA, never moving, despite her instinctive urge to run, she was a good mother, and she thought of Aaron before she considered anything else. But he still couldn't help feeling worried whenever she disappeared. He couldn't get past the uneasy feeling that some day she was going to run again.

"Thanks, Mom." Smiling one last time at his mother, and then at Mrs. Hamil, Jack hurried away to find Kate, rushing past well wishers who got in his way. He acquired a glass of champagne on his way.

He'd been sober a long time. Over a year to be exact. After he'd lost Kate, it had driven him to the edge of despair, a time in his life when he'd felt almost completely useless. Living on the island had given him sort of a heroic dynamic he hadn't realized he had until his life on the island was behind him. But once he'd realized just how insignificant he was to the big, cold world, he'd put all his value into his relationship with Kate. When she'd left him because of his substance abuse problems, it had nearly sent him to suicide.

But now he was sober again, and all of that was behind him. Sacrifices had been made to ensure his happiness, as well as Kate's happiness, but Jack realized, with some shame, that he hadn't been the one to make those sacrifices.

Jack burst through the doors of the hotel and looked around a little frantically, the urge to shout her name almost more than he could bear. But he stopped himself.

Kate was just a few yards away, her dress and hair blowing in the wind, arms folded, back to him. She looked beautiful in the night atmosphere.

With a sigh, he walked up to her, "Kate, what are you doing?"

"Just came out to get some air." She smiled at him, that adorable smile that he was so familiar with. The smile he loved. "You know. Crowds."

"Right, I know." He put his arm around her, and they stood there in silence, together. The city lights were brilliant all around them, the sounds of LA filling every crevice of the night, and Jack felt such swelling happiness he could barely contain it.

_Just a few more days._

And then everything would be perfect.

Only one doubt remained.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Kate tilted her head to look at him, "Why would you ask me that?"

He shrugged, "Most women are excited."

"I am excited, Jack."

"So," he looked her in the eyes, "you _want_ to do this, right?"

"Of course I do." She smiled, and kissed his lips softly.

He tried to smile back, but didn't manage it very well. It had been hard convincing Kate to do this, and he knew all too well why that was. But there was nothing he could do about it. She wasn't exactly the kind of woman that was easy to tie down. Besides that, there was always the fear that her heart was somewhere else.

"It's been over a year." Jack murmured. "If you-"

"I'm not waiting for him." Her voice sounded sincere, but it was quiet. "I know he's not coming back. Not this time."

Jack ran his hand along her arm, enjoying the silky quality of her bare skin. There were so many uncertainties. He'd done this before. She'd done this before. Neither had turned out well. And as long as Sawyer was out there, Jack knew there was no guarantee that Kate would always be his. Whatever it was about the con artist that got Kate's blood pumping, it wasn't going to just stop. Jack got the feeling that if Sawyer ever came back, and if he wanted to take Kate from Jack, he probably could. Just waltz in with all his ruffian-styled charm and his obnoxious, dimpled smile, and there goes Kate with him.

But the doctor didn't think that was going to happen. Sawyer had told him himself that he was never coming back, that they'd never see him again, and Jack didn't doubt it. Wherever the con artist was, he was probably living it up—robbing people blind, taking what he wanted, smoozing sex and money from whatever beautiful woman he crossed paths with. Even Sawyer had to know that was not much of a life. Hopefully when he finally figured that out he wouldn't come back to LA, hoping to start over with Kate.

"Let's go back inside." Jack said quietly.

Kate smile at him, "Okay."

Hand in hand, they went back into the hotel, but instead of going back to the party, they walked around, down to the pool, through the empty dining room, through some of the empty halls.

"Your mother seems happy." Kate said casually, but Jack could hear that the words were difficult for her to say, especially since her own mother wasn't attending the wedding and had no part in Kate's life at all.

"She is. Very excited."

"She just doesn't know what she's getting into." Kate teased.

Jack laughed. "No. I guess she doesn't."

"Your father would be proud too. Don't you think?"

The doctor looked away. It was stupid, but even after nearly five years, thinking about his father, Christian Shephard, was painful. "Yeah. I think so."

He said that, but he really wasn't sure what would have made Christian proud if he were still alive. He had never seemed proud of his only son when he was alive, no matter what he'd done. He'd never had faith in Jack. And the only evidence Jack had that Christian had been even slightly proud, or had loved his son, was a few scattered, childhood memories, and a vicarious message delivered by Sawyer. Whatever the truth was, it didn't matter now.

"I guess we should go back in and mingle."  
Jack shrugged, "I'm just about ready to go home."

"Me too."

"Who did you get to babysit?"

"Maria."

"The girl from down the street?"

"She does a good job."

"Of course she does."

Kate grinned and started to say more.

A few rooms ahead of them, there was suddenly shouting, and a door burst open. A maid came out, shouting rapidly in Spanish so that the voice of the person she was arguing with was drowned out, then she turned away and started stomping toward them, still clucking to herself I her own language. She was matronly and somewhat overweight, and she was holding a denim jacket in her hands. Jack saw a large splotch of dark red on the sleeve.

Something about the jacket was familiar, and he stopped the maid, "Excuse me. Is someone hurt?"

The maid scowled and began rambling, half in Spanish, half in English.

"Woah, woah, slow down. What's going on?"

"He loco!" The woman slapped her forehead, then tilted her head back, acting like she was drinking something. "I offer I should call the policia. No, no—no policia. I offer I should call ambulance. No, no—no medico. I tell you, Senor, he is _loco_."

"I'm a doctor," Jack said automatically, "if you go call the ambulance I can at least-"

"You medico?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm a doctor."

"Ah, si, si. Senor. I call ambulancia." She dropped the coat on the floor and hurried away, and Jack paused to look at it. It was a fairly standard, denim jacket. It didn't mean anything.

He walked toward the room where the maid had emerged from, stripping off his tuxedo jacket as he did so.

Kate giggled, "Jack, what are you doing?"

"I just want to make sure he's okay."

"We've got to get back to the party. They'll be wondering where we are."

"This will only take a second, Kate."

Still smiling, Kate rolled her eyes and followed.

Jack pushed the door open, not sure what to expect: someone was hurt obviously, but how bad and from what was still up in the air. If it was serious, maybe Jack could stabilize the man's condition before the ambulance arrived.

The doctor got to the threshold of the door and stopped suddenly.

Kate ran right into him.

The man sitting on the bed was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed in a pain-filled wince, breathing hard and clutching his left arm. His dirty blonde hair was cut so that it fell just above the collar, and some of it was in his eyes, shadowing his forehead. His face was clean cut and he was dressed in nice, black pants and a white dress shirt, the top three buttons undone. The sleeve of the left arm was bloody, and there was a bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor beside a black briefcase.

Sawyer looked exactly the way he had almost two years ago, overlooking the fact that he looked like a businessman.

In the same instant, Jack and Kate surged forward.

"Oh my God. Is he okay?"

Before either of them could touch him though, Sawyer came to life, eyes opening, revealing the flare of blue that looked almost black with anger, his lips curled back in a slight snarl, white teeth knife-bright, and then he pulled a gun out of the folds of his clothes and held his good arm out stiff as a board, and Jack was looking down the barrel of a nine millimeter.

"S-Sawyer!"

A second later, the con artist seemed to recognize them, lowered his gun slightly and his eyes cleared up. A shaky grin, "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Sawyer," Jack tried to find the right words, looked around, not sure how to make sense of all this, "what are you doing here? What happened to you?"

"Are you all right?" Kate demanded, her voice trembling with worry.

"Nice ta' see ya'll too." Sawyer pushed himself up off the bed, moaning from the strain that put on his arm.

"What happened?" Jack asked again, trying to get a better look at the arm.

"No time for that." Sawyer shoved past them a little roughly, holding his gun up at the ready and leaning around the corner. "Did anybody follow ya'?"

"Follow us?" Jack exchanged glances with Kate, "No. What do you mean? I don't think so."

"Just sit down." Kate ordered, "You're hurt."

The con artist ignored her, still peeking out of the room like he expected someone to start shooting at him. Jack could see that his trigger finger was trembling.

"James!" Kate snapped.

For the first time, Sawyer looked at her, sighing, then his eyes ran her up and down in a way that made Jack uncomfortable, and he attempted to smile again, "Well, Freckles, ya' sure look pretty tonight. What's the occasion?"

Jack spoke quickly, "She's right, Sawyer. Let me have a look at your arm—the ambulance is on its way. We-"

"Shut up!" Sawyer snarled suddenly, cocking the gun. "Both of ya'."

"Sawyer, I-"

"For the last time, Doc, hush."

Jack shook his head, sighed. He was about to just go out and see if the ambulance was coming, and then he heard a second gun cock.

There was a muffled pop, and the wood right next to Sawyer's head exploded.

Shouting an obscenity, Jack jumped back, grabbed Kate's arm, dragging her with him. "Sawyer, get down!"

But the con artist didn't move. He stood perfectly still, taking careful aim with his gun.

Another shot was fired.

"You idiot! Someone's shooting at you!"

Sawyer half-turned his head to glare at him, "Ya' think?"

A third shot, and suddenly Sawyer returned fire, letting loose three bullets. The shots were much louder than the enemy fire, and they echoed through the halls of the hotel like thunder. Jack heard people screaming.

"What are you doing?" Jack demanded.

Without answering, Sawyer suddenly ran from the room and bolted down the hall, gun raised, shouted back at them, "You two stay put."

"What's he doing?" Kate jumped up, looking frantic. "He's going to get himself killed."

Jack got up too, "You wait here."

But it was too late. Kate was already running after Sawyer.

Cursing, Jack followed.

They ran through the halls, pushing past terrified guests, weaving around people who had wandered into the hall, the sound of Sawyer's gun going off up ahead of them. Jack saw the maid from earlier, huddled in the lobby, a phone to her ear, a terrified look on her face.

"That idiot Sawyer." He muttered under his breath. What kind of trouble was the con artist in now that would get him in a gunfight in the middle of a hotel? And why did it have to be the hotel where they had planned their party?

Weird that they had just been discussing him, not fifteen minutes ago.

They ran past the room where their party was being held and Jack saw his mother standing there, looking worried. When she saw Jack she called to him, but he kept running.

Ahead of him, Sawyer ran through an emergency exit, out into the night, and Kate kicked off her high heels as she followed. Jack almost tripped over the shoes.

He went outside, just in time to see Kate rush around a corner. There was more gun fire, and a shrill, feminine scream, and then, suddenly, the firing stopped and everything was quiet.

Jack jogged forward, calling, "Kate? Sawyer?"

No one answered, and he ran a little faster, rounded the corner as quickly as he could.

Sawyer was standing at the side of the pool, shoulders heaving, gun at his side, and the body of a woman was lying at his feet. Kate was approaching quickly. The pool was sparkling blue, the peace of the surrounding area making the blood that was on the concrete seem extremely grotesque.

Jack ran forward and knelt beside the body, rolling it over and cursing. "Dammit. Dammit, Sawyer, what did you-" He cut himself off when he saw the horse face and sunken eyes. It was Mrs. Hamil, the woman his mother had introduced him too. "God," he choked, "God, Sawyer, what did you do? What the hell is wrong with you?" The pulse showed that she was dead, and there was a large bullet wound through her right breast.

"Sawyer…" Kate looked absolutely horrified.

"What is your problem?" Jack demanded, barely resisting the urge to put his fist in Sawyer's eye.

But even as the two of them stared at him, Sawyer bent to pick up the gun that was lying beside the body, put it into a large, plastic baggy, which he stuffed into his pocket.

"Why did you kill her? What is this all about?"

Still ignoring Jack, Sawyer pulled out what looked like a sophisticated walky talky. "This is Ford. Target is terminated."

There was a fuzzy reply, and Jack stared to demand what was going on, but Sawyer kept talking, "Two witnesses."

Kate gave Jack a worried look, "Witnesses?"

"Yes sir, northwestern side. Roger that."

He put the radio away, shoved his own gun into the back of his pants and finally looked at them, "Sorry ya'll had ta' see that. Prob'ly coulda' lived without that."

Furious, Jack got in his face, "Are you serious? You just shot a woman, someone we actually knew, right in front of us, and all you can say is 'sorry you had to see that?"

Sawyer shrugged, "Ain't much else ta' say, Doc."  
"I think you need to explain this, Sawyer. Right now."

The con artist grinned.

"What the hell is so funny? I don't see anything funny about this!"

"Helluva greeting after almost two years, Jack. 'Specially considerin' the dire straits I was in last time I saw ya'." The grin expanded.

So he was still hiding the truth from Kate. Jack wondered what all of this had to do with Eric Hawkins.

"Sawyer," Kate spoke up, "what are you doing here? What's going on?"

The explosion of an engine kept Sawyer from answering, and then a pair of headlights came into view as a fairly large vehicle tore around the corner.

Out of instinct, Jack started to back away, holding onto Kate's hand. The vehicle stopped beside them. It was a large, black van without any writing on it, and the back windows were painted over.

Two more men in black suits with bright, white shirts got out; both were wearing sunglasses. The first man, a tall African American, pointed his gun at Jack and Kate, but spoke coolly, "All right, both of you, up against the van—legs spread, hands over your heads."

Neither of them moved.

"Officer," Jack started to explain, "there's been a misunderstanding, we…" he didn't want to rat Sawyer at, but he didn't see why they should be arrested for something he had done. "He-"

"Against the van!"

Jack looked as Sawyer. The second man, who was a little shorter and starting to go bald, had approached him.

"You all right, Ford?"

Sawyer glanced at Jack, then back at the man, "Dandy."

"We'll have a look at that arm when we get back."

"Sawyer, what's going on?" Jack demanded, watching as two more men got out of the back of the van and started to load the body onto a gurney. Sirens were blaring in the background.

"'Sall right, Doc, just do what the man says."

"No, not until I know what's going on!"

"You don't have a choice, Mr. Shephard." The balding man came over, flashing a badge, "Agent Muff, CIA."

"CIA?" Kate gasped. "Sawyer-"

Muff gave Sawyer a stern look, "I'll see you back at HQ, Ford."

Sawyer stared for a long time at Kate, and then nodded slowly, "Right. With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

Jack tried to resist as the men handcuffed his wrists and put a hood over his head, and then he was forced into the back of the van. "Where are you taking us?" Jack demanded. "We-"

"No time to explain, Doctor."

Angrier than ever, Jack attempted to object, but Muff's next words took the fight right out of him.

"Agent Shephard needs to speak with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

By the time the van stopped over an hour later, Jack was shaking all over, not just because he was afraid for himself, but because Kate was there with him, and if anything happened to her now…

They were unloaded from the van and herded inside; Jack wanted to reach out and take Kate's hand, to comfort her, but his hands were still bound and it was no use.

When the hoods were removed, Jack found that he was in some kind of large, white room with bright, fluorescent lights and bleached-white tiles and walls. There was a table and an arrangement of chairs. The right hand wall was a mirror.

Agent Muff removed the handcuffs.

"What's going on?" Jack demanded, "Why did you bring us here?"

"You'll understand soon enough." Muff promised, hooking the cuffs to his belt.

"You can't just arrest us for no reason!" Kate objected.

"You haven't been arrested-"

Angrily, Jack took a step forward, "Then what is this?" He really wanted to hit Muff right in the face, but managed to contain himself, knowing that would only make everything worse.

But Muff didn't answer. He just smiled at them, sort of slyly, and left.

For the next instant, everything was so quiet, Jack could have heard a pin drop three rooms over, and then he turned to Kate at the same instant she caught onto his sleeve, "Are you all right?"

"Did they hurt you?"

"No," he tried to smile, "I'm fine. You?"

Kate looked around, eyes scanning the ceiling and walls, a sure sign that she was looking for an escape route, "What's going on, Jack?"

"I don't know."

"Sawyer…what's he doing…?"

Jack just shook his head and thought. Last he'd known of Sawyer, the con artist had been joining a crime boss named Eric Hawkins in Chicago who had more or less bought Sawyer's conning skills. But that had been a year and a half ago. There was no telling what the con artist was up to now. And Kate didn't know about any of that. As far as she knew, the last time she'd seen Sawyer he'd been leaving the United States to get away from Hawkins.

"What do you think they're doing? Is he working for them?"

It was the strangest thought Jack had ever had in his life. Sawyer, working for the CIA. It actually made him laugh out loud for a few moments.

The look on Kate's face told him that she didn't find the same kind of humor in it.

"Jack, this is serious. They've arrested us for no reason."

"We're going to get out of this. I promise." He said, when he'd stopped laughing, and then he squeezed her hand, "Nothing's going to happen to you, Kate. I'm not going to let it."

A wan smile teased Kate's mouth and her eyes brightened a little.

The door clattered open and Sawyer strode in, his eyebrows etching together, but he grinned when he saw them, so the momentary emotion Jack had seen was covered up. His shirt was still bloody so apparently his arm hadn't been repaired yet. The voice of Agent Muff followed him in, "You know the drill, Ford."

"Yeah, yeah, I know it, Muffy."

The door slammed shut.

He grinned at them, "Good evenin', boys and girls. Fancy runnin' into _you_ here."

The grin only succeeded in pissing Jack off. "That does it—Sawyer, you'd better tell me what the hell is going on! What did they bring us here for? What are _you_ doing here?"

"No can do, Jack'O; I'm just here ta' say howdy."

Furious, Jack grabbed Sawyer's collar and slammed him back against the door, "Do I have to beat the bravado right out of you?"

"Hey, easy there, Doc. Easy."

"Jack." Kate scolded. Then she looked at Sawyer, "C'mon, Sawyer, quit fooling around. Just tell us what's going on. What did they arrest us for?"

"Didn't arrest ya'. They brought ya' in 'cause you saw me send poor Emmie Hamil the way o the world."

"What was that about?" Jack finally let go of the con artists collar, but he was still angry. "Mrs. Hamil was a personal friend of my mother's."

"Was she now? My apologies, Doc," Sawyer straightened his collar out, "didn't know that. See, I mistook _Mrs. _Hamil for a chick named Emile Rosa, whose been running around takin' shots at me all week."

Jack shook his head, "Why would she want to kill you?"

"Can't answer that one. Next?"

"Cut the cute act! You owe us an explanation!"

"I don't owe ya' nothin', Jack."

"We're supposed to be somewhere." The Doctor snapped. "People are going to be wondering where we are!"

Sawyer looked at him tentatively, his gaze traveling slowly to the corner of his eye so he could look briefly at Kate, before focusing on Jack again, "Sorry I crashed your party." He didn't sound sorry. His tone hinted at reluctance as he asked, "What was it for anyway?"

"Nothing." Kate said.

At the same moment Jack told him, "It was our engagement party."

Sawyer just nodded, but his smile was gone.

"Are you going to let us go?" Kate asked after a moment.

The con artist wouldn't look at her, "Yeah. They can't legally hold ya'."

"I'm not leaving until I have some answers." Jack said stubbornly.

"That sounds like you." Sawyer rubbed his arm, a slight wince creasing his face.

"What about your arm? Did you get shot?"

"Yeah, gotta' go see Doctor Happy here in a second, just thought I'd pop in and…" he shrugged.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jack took a deep breath, almost not wanting the answer to his next question, "Agent Muff said…'Agent Shephard' needs to talk to me. What did he mean by that?"

"He told ya' that?"

Jack nodded.

"Ah hell. Muffy's an idiot."

"What did he mean, Sawyer?"

"Guess in that case…we'd better go."

"Go where? You haven't answered anything."

Sawyer turned and knocked on the door, "Let's get this show on the road!"

A moment later, the door swung open and Agent Muff looked in. "He ready?"

"Don't matter if he's ready—ya' went and told him. He ain't never gonna' be ready now."

Muff frowned. "All right, let's go."

With all his regular confidence, Sawyer walked out of the room, and Muff gestured for Jack to follow.

When Kate tried to come too, Muff stopped her, "Sorry, Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stay here."

Kate looked at him, incredulous, "What?"

"Nothing personal, just protocol."

"No, no, I'm not staying here. That's my fiancé, I'm-"

"It's fine, Kate." Sawyer said, barely looking at her, "I'll take good care o' Jacky for ya'."

"I'm _not_ staying here, Sawyer!"

"Yeah, ya' are." Sawyer shoved her back, and slammed the door. Then resumed walking.

Muff frowned at him, "Not exactly an orthodox method, Ford."

"I ain't parta' your circus, remember?"

"Why can't she come?" Jack asked, trying to stay cool as Muff escorted him down the hall.

Sawyer shrugged, "Rules."

They walked through several spic and span hallways. The place was clean, full of people wearing suits and packing heat, but Jack could tell it wasn't an official building, and because there weren't any windows, he got the feeling it was all under ground.

Twisting out of Muff's grip, Jack walked a little closer to Sawyer, "So you're working for the CIA now? Is that what this is?"

"With. I'm workin' _with_ the CIA."

"What's the difference?"

Sawyer snorted, "Makes a _lot_ of difference, Jack."

"Ford." Muff snapped.

The con artist glanced back over his shoulder at the other man, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, here we are."

They had stopped in front of a heavy, white door that was unmarked.

"Where's here?" Jack asked.

"Tell ya' what, Doc, why don't ya' just quit with the questions for a tick an' just let things play out."

"I-"

"I know, ya' ain't good at that-man with a plan, that's you-but you're gonna' wanna be pretty open-minded for what happens next, and ta' be honest, I can't answer your damn questions."

"Then take me to someone who can." Jack snapped.

"I'm about ta'."

With no further ado, Sawyer opened the door.

Inside was something straight out of a CIA drama movie. It was a large office, a little dark compared with the rest of the building, and the far wall was covered with computer screens, some showing places Jack knew and some showing places he'd never seen. One showed Kate, pacing her cell impatiently. There was a large, polished desk there, all the paperwork and office supplies on it arranged neatly. There was a large office chair turned to face the wall so Jack couldn't see who was in it.

Sawyer proceeded casually, "Got 'im, Boss."

"Good." The deep voice was so familiar that Jack didn't have to wonder who it was anymore. He knew that voice the way he knew his own. A voice that clogged his memories and his dreams, haunting him, even when it comforted him, telling him everything he didn't want to hear, everything he needed to hear.

_"You don't have what it takes."_

Then the chair swiveled, dashing all his uncertainty to pieces. And there was Christian Shephard, looking exactly the way Jack remembered him, a glass of scotch in one hand, and that look on his face, blue eyes seemingly cold, hair a little whiter than before. He was dressed in a suit as well, with a tie and everything.

Jack felt like he was going to pass out, and his mouth went dry, his head tilted, guts flopped. All he could do was stare. Several times he started to speak, to say 'dad', but the word wouldn't come.

"Hello, Jack." Christian got up, looking elegant with his glass of scotch.

Still Jack couldn't speak. It was too unreal.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Christian continued, "but first things first. Stark tells me you took some damage."

Jack started to speak again, but then realized he had no idea what his father was talking about.

"Rosa got me good." Sawyer admitted, looking at his arm again.

Christian set his glass down, and tapped the desk. "Then let's have a look at it, son."

_Son…_

With an uncertain glance at Jack, Sawyer pulled himself up onto the desk and slid his shirt part way down, revealing the nasty, red hole in his left bicep, and Christian began to inspect it.

"Hm. Rosa was a good shot."

"Not good enough." Sawyer muttered.

"At least she's out of the way. And this," Christian got out a pair of heavy-duty tweezers and dug his fingers into Sawyer's wound, opening it as wide as possible. The con artist winced and clutched the edge of the desk, but didn't make a sound as Christian prodded the wound, probing around for the slug. Blood dribbled from the gash, running down Sawyer's forearm.

Jack watched, unfazed, but Agent Muff made a sudden retching sound and turned away, hand over his mouth.

Sawyer smiled a pain-filled grin at him, "Don't get too excited, Dracula."

Impatiently, Jack shifted his weight, still staring at Christian Shephard, trying to find any proof that this man was a fake, because obviously it wasn't possible for him to be alive. He had seen him; he had known he was dead. He couldn't be here now. Last time he'd seen Christian had been on the island, and that had been an illusion, a hallucination. Nothing more, in spite of what John Locke had said. Christian _was_ dead. Jack had come to terms with that a long time ago. Seeing him like this, so unquestionably alive, was very disturbing.

Christian and Sawyer continued talking softly between themselves, almost as if Jack and Muff weren't in the room.

Christian said, "Did you have a hard time breaching the hotel?"

"Naw. Rosa was easy ta' follow. Hope they weren't payin' her much—she didn't do her job too good."

"Too well." Christian corrected matter-of-factly, finally extracting the bullet, "You know you could have called for back up after she shot you."

"Didn't need no back up, Scotch."

"If she'd been a better shot you'd be dead, James."

"Good thing she was a trashy shot then." Sawyer smirked.

"You don't take this seriously enough." Christian scolded him, and there was something about his voice, something paternal and soft to the quality of it that finally made Jack snap. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he was certain that Christian had never shown so much concern for him.

It was like a really weird dream, watching Sawyer be all buddy-buddy with his dead father.

"All right," he said angrily, walking forward, "that's enough. I want answers right here, right now, starting with who the hell _you _are!"

"Patience, Jack." Christian said coolly, beginning to stitch up Sawyer's arm. "Everything will make sense soon."

"So start explaining! Who are you? Why did you have me brought here?"

Christian gave Jack a slighting look that washed the doctor back to childhood, when this man had seemed so omnipotent, and his words had been so poisonous. "First things first, Jack."

But he wasn't going to let that look or that voice or this imposter control him, no matter how real it all seemed. Jack slammed his fist down on the desk and shouted, "I want answers _now!_"

"Maybe ya' oughta' just tell 'im." Sawyer muttered.

With a sigh, Christian set aside the medical supplies and turned to his son, "What do you want to know, Jack?"

"Don't play dumb with me—who are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm your father."

"Cut the bullshit! My father _died_ over _four_ years ago! I ID'd him at the morgue in Sydney! It's impossible for you to be him!"

"It's not impossible, Jack." Christian replied coolly. "Yes, I admit, you ID'd my body, but did you ever see it again after it was put in that coffin?"

Jack didn't answer. He remembered the shock of finding the empty coffin on the island, and the fact that he had never found the body, even in his whole four months of living there, bothered him a lot. Even today. "I don't know what happened to my father's body," he snarled, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to believe any imposter who happens to come along!"

Christian gestured to Sawyer, "He believes I am who I say I am."

"Him? He dropped out of high school when he was fourteen! He uses words like ain't! Why should it matter to me what _he_ believes? He's a liar anyway! He lies to people for a living! How do I know," Jack glared at Sawyer, "he's not trying to con me? How do I know he's not behind all this?"

Sawyer seemed unbothered, slid off the desk, testing his wounded arm and whistling, "That's an awful lotta' blame on just one man, Brutus."

"The point is," Jack started pacing. He was feeling angrier and angrier as the conversation wore on, "the point is there's no way you're my father! My father is dead, and whoever you are, I don't give a damn! Whether Sawyer hired you to do this, or whether he believes your story, no matter where you came from, I know one thing and _just_ one thing—you _are _not, _cannot_ possibly be my father!"

"Jack, you've got to have a little faith. I-"

"My father's dead!" Jack shouted so loud his lungs hurt a little. "He drank himself to death!"

"Tetrodotoxin." Christian said simply.

"What?"

"Tetrodotoxin. It's a poison that-"

"I _know_ what it is!" Jack snapped, "I went to medical school!"

"I realize that, Jack—I put you through medical school."

"No," Jack shook his head fiercely; "My _father _put me through medical school. And I paid for most of it!"

"I don't know what it is," Sawyer piped up, "an' I'm willin' ta' bet Muffy over there don't either. So let's here it."

Christian's eyes continued boring into Jack as he spoke, so he felt like he was telling him, even though he'd just said he already knew. Whoever this man was, he certainly had Christian's personality down pat. "Tetrodotoxin, James, is the most deadly poison known to our world-easily five hundred times more potent than cyanide-derived from puffer fish. A large dose is fatal, of course, but if someone is given a dose that is _not_ fatal, the symptoms include, but are not limited to, complete paralysis, and breathing and heart levels become imperceptible."

"Ah." For someone who'd dropped out of high school, Sawyer actually looked like he was following, and Jack had to remember that Sawyer was anything but stupid. "So ya' look dead huh? Seem dead?"

"More or less. It's extremely difficult to tell someone is alive when they've been poisoned with tetrodotoxin."

"That could come in handy for makin' folks disappear."

"As you can imagine, it's a lot more complicated than that, but I'm afraid we don't have time to discuss all of tetrodotoxin's properties and facets. If you really want to know more, you can find information later. Now-"

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Jack snapped. "What would make my father so special that they would want to make him disappear without actually dying? It doesn't add up!"

"That's a question I can't answer right now, Jack. All you need to know is that I'm alive and that I'm really your father." As if the action proved it somehow, Christian picked up his scotch and took a swig.

"I don't believe that—I have no reason to believe that! People don't just disappear for five years and then reappear!"

"Jack-"  
"No! You think I'm an idiot? Is that it? You think I'm stupid? I'm just going to fall for this little ruse? I won't!"

"If you really want to push this, Kiddo, we can take a paternity test, DNA test, anything you want."

"I don't want a paternity test!" Jack started pacing, the anger in him shuddering closer and closer to the edge of hysteria, "I want out of here! I want to know why my fiancée and I have been arrested for nothing! You have no grounds to hold us here! I want my lawyer!"

"Jack-"

"I want my lawyer! Then I want a restraining order for both of you—all of you! I'll have you all arrested for this! Impersonating an officer or whatever this is!" He jabbed a finger in Sawyer's face, "Including you!"

"Doc-"

"He's got nothing to do with this." Christian said firmly.

Jack didn't like that his father-this fake father anyway-was defending Sawyer, _protecting _him.

"He's got everything to do with this! I want to call my lawyer!"  
"I can't let you do that, Jack."

"I'm not asking permission!"

"Jack," Sawyer interrupted, "get a grip, would ya'?"

"No I will _not_ get a grip!"

"Look, I get that this is weird, but goin' ta' hell in a hand basket ain't gonna' fix it."

"I can't believe you! You crash my engagement party, ruin my night, shoot one of my mother's friends, get me and Kate arrested, and then you have the audacity to tell me to 'get a grip'!"

"Oh, 'cause going all ta' pieces is workin' a lot better!"

"What are you even doing here? You told me I'd never see you again!"

"Well, sorry that didn't work out!"

"Why not? What are you back in LA for? And what do you want from me?"

"What do I want from ya'? I don't want nothin', Jack!"

"Right, right," Jack laughed in his face, "well excuse me for not trusting you, _James_, but last time you just sort of walked in on my life you weren't exactly honest!"  
Sawyer was clearly getting angry now, "I _saved_ your damn life, Doc, in case ya' forgot! If it weren't for me, ya' woulda' been fish-food a long time ago!"

"So am I supposed to believe you're here to do me some great, personal favor? How can I trust you, Sawyer? You shot someone earlier! Someone I _knew_!"

"Ya' didn't know her! You have no idea who she was or what she wanted!"

"James." Christian warned.

"Why don't you tell me then? Who was she and what did she want?"

Sawyer sneered at Jack and opened his mouth to say something.

"James. That's enough." Christian gave Sawyer a vindicating look, and then turned to Jack, "Listen, Son-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Jack, I realize you're upset-this is a lot to swallow all at once," he put his hands on Jack's shoulders, "but I promise, this is all going to make sense soon. You just have to trust me."

Jack pulled away, stepping back into Muff, who had drifted closer, "Trust you? Why would I trust you? If you're really my father you tricked me into believing you're dead! If you're not, then you're a stranger, pretending to be my dad!"

Christian sighed, "Well, clearly we're not getting anywhere with this. James, take Doctor Shephard and secure him until we can get a blood sample. Muff, you stay here."

Muff nodded, but Sawyer didn't move. He looked torn between saying something and doing what he was told.

Christian glared, "Ford."

"Right." Sawyer muttered, seeming to remember himself. "Let's go, Doc." He grabbed Jack's arm and started to direct him toward the door.

Jack wrenched away and Sawyer shoved him through the threshold. He thought about hitting Sawyer but the con artist had a gun, so that didn't seem wise. Besides, this place was crawling with people who-legit agents or not-were all carrying guns. As much as he hated it, Jack knew he had to ride this one out until he could figure out what was happening.

"Just keep your shirt on, Jack," Sawyer muttered when they were out of hearing range, "it's gonna' be okay."

Jack wondered how this could possibly be okay.

Sawyer took him down the hall a ways, a fair distance from Christian's office and pushed him into a small, bare room with nothing but a chair in the corner. It was as white and blank as a cell in a mental hospital.

"Just hang out here." Sawyer ordered, glancing around the room, like he was making sure it was empty, "They'll come get you later."

"What about Kate?" Jack demanded.

The con artist sighed, "Kate's fine."

"Well what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What the hell is going on, Sawyer?"

"All just part o' the plan, Jack'O." He turned to go, "Ya' better behave yourself in here."

Before he could open the door, Jack grabbed his arm, "Hey."

Sawyer gave him a reluctant look.

"What is this all about? What are they doing to get you to do this?"

"Don't know what ya' mean, Doc." Sawyer said coldly.

"I'm not an idiot. I see how they boss you around—so what are they holding over your head?"

"Nothin'." Sawyer snapped, pulling loose.

"Then what are you in this for?"

"What else?" The con artist grinned a sharky smile, "The money."

Then he was gone, leaving Jack feeling cold and confused.

***author's note: that does it for chapter two, guys. I'm going to try to put these out on a weekly basis, probably on Thursdays or thereabout, since I'll be in a Losty mood.**

**Also, if anyone is curious about the tetrodotoxin here are the sites I got my info from: ****.**

**_man_**

**And**

**I'm no expert of course. ^-^**

**=D thanks for reading!**

**-Suta**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sawyer shut the door, then sighed and leaned back against it. He could hear Jack on the other side, walking around the room-probably pacing-then there was a loud clatter as the Doc either kicked or threw the chair. He was really angry, all the familiar rage and determination Sawyer had always known of him burning in his dark eyes. At least he'd gotten his life cleaned up.

It was hard to stand there and lie to Jack, to tell him it was going to be okay when he wasn't sure it was, to keep the danger from him. Sawyer wanted to go back inside and sit down and tell Jack everything. Each last detail about the situation. Everything seemed so out of his control at the moment, it would be nice to level with his friends, figure out what to do next, who to trust, who not to believe.

But there were agents going to and fro, up and down the hall, and some gave him a nasty look when he'd been standing there too long, so he started walking, slowly, back the way he'd come. His arm was sore and the wound stung, even though Christian had dressed it. Sawyer rubbed it slightly and winced. It was stupid of him to have gotten shot. He'd been with Rosa all week, he'd known she had a gun and that she could use it quickly and efficiently. And still he'd been reckless enough to get shot.

Of course, he hadn't meant for Jack and Kate to run into him. He'd known they were there, had even known what they were there for, but he hadn't figured they'd come across him. In fact, he'd been hoping they wouldn't. Just a typical case of bad timing on their part.

Now they were here, asking questions, angry with him for the situation, blaming him when it wasn't his fault. He hadn't _wanted_ to come back to LA, but as usual, it didn't matter what he wanted. Sawyer tried to tell himself that Jack and Kate were safer while they were in this building, but as far as he knew-assuming Christian were telling him the truth-they were in even more danger.

The sooner they got out of here the better. That's why all this business with the blood test and Jack had to get underway quickly. As far as Sawyer was concerned, Christian was taking his sweet time. Didn't he care that his only son was in danger?

Of course, nothing Christian had done made much sense to Sawyer. He had no explanation of his own for it. Last he'd known, Christian Shephard was a doctor-the head of surgery at a hospital-in Sydney lamenting that he didn't have the balls to apologize to his kid, and drinking himself into oblivion. Jack obviously believed he'd died. Sawyer had no reason to doubt that this was the real Christian Shephard though. He only wondered how someone went from being Chief of Surgery to Counter Terrorism Director.

That would be explained later, he hoped. In the meantime, Sawyer had to do everything in his personal power to make sure Kate and Jack stayed safe.

He pulled at the collar of his shirt. Dressing up had never suited him, and now he wished he could just slip on a t-shirt and some jeans, crash at a bar somewhere and hash out the meaning of life with a bartender.

Up ahead he saw the room where he'd left Kate. There was a young man standing outside. He was in his mid twenties, tall, with thick, black hair, sunglasses and a small mustache. He looked like he'd stand there just like that, even if an elephant were charging at him.

Sawyer mosied up to him, grinning charmingly, "Well hey there, Rock Star."

Thekid just looked at him emotionlessly, his eyes hidden by the shades."

"Ya' know, we're inside. Ya' could take your glasses off."

Still the kid said nothing, and Sawyer's point was moot. Cody Loveless was a fresh-faced, up-and-coming agent, who'd dreamed of nothing but joining the CIA since he was a little boy, and he took his job extremely seriously.

"How's our girl doing?" Sawyer asked nonchalantly, approaching the one-way mirror to look in at Kate. She was just sitting there, swinging her legs with nervous energy and looking around, probably for some way to escape. A way to run. She looked really pretty in that clean, white dress, and her face was glossy with make up. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, but still curly and soft looking. Seeing her was a little like having a splinter stabbed into his heart. It hurt to see her, to remember the moments of laying beside her, watching her laugh, listening to her breathe in the dark.

Agent Loveless turned to look as well, but didn't move from his post, "She's been quieter the last few minutes."

"Ain't that somethin'?" Sawyer muttered, thinking of how much she hated being locked up like this, how her mind must be screaming, even if her mouth wasn't. But Loveless didn't know Kate like he did. None of the agents knew what he and Kate had shared, they only knew that they were acquainted.

"She's pretty, huh?" Loveless said absently, taking his sunglasses off to wipe them on his jacket before putting them back on.

Sawyer stared at Kate, trying not to remember, trying to keep himself from thinking about all the memories and the emotions, wishing that he had never met her, because if he hadn't this wound in his chest wouldn't exist. "Yeah." He said quietly.

"Why would anyone wanna' kill her?" Loveless mused, still studying Kate thoughtfully.

"Who knows?" Sawyer said gruffly. "It ain't our job to ask questions."

Loveless looked at him, like he wanted to ask something but knew better, and then he nodded. "Yes sir."

Kate, as if she could feel that someone was there, suddenly got up and walked right up to the mirror, looking through, almost like she knew Sawyer was there. She was so close. Not a foot of space between them, and she was so real. Her hair and her flesh as perfect and soft as he remembered, the freckles on her nose just as he remembered them. He could practically smell her, feel her.

She lifted a hand to the glass, probably just trying to figure out what it was, but he felt significance in the action, placed his hand over hers, the pain in his chest swelling and spreading up to his throat.

"Sir?"

He ignored Loveless.

"Agent Ford? Is everything all right?"

Snapping out of it, Sawyer turned away, trying to hide how confused and upset he was, glared at Loveless, "Ev'rything's great."

Loveless turned his head just a little to look at Kate, who was pacing back and forth now, still unaware of how close Sawyer was. "They said…that is, Agent Muff said that you know them. Is that true?"

"Yeah. I know 'em a little. Not too well though. Guess that's why they put me on this mission." Sawyer said smoothly. Loveless had to keep believing he was his superior-a real CIA Agent-that was critical. "Details ain't important though. How about ya' let me in there now?"

Immediately Loveless' face hardened, "I apologize, sir, but Agent Shephard told me not to open this door for anyone-not even you-I'm to keep it locked until he comes in person and says otherwise.

Sawyer nodded. He'd already known that—asking to go in had just been a test, and he was satisfied. Loveless was good at following orders. He'd do exactly what he was told as long as it was his superior who said it.

Kate was safe.

But that wasn't the only reason for the request. Sawyer really did want to go in and talk to Kate. He wanted to be near her, to smell her hair and touch her skin, tell her it was okay, and then confide all his problems in her and listen to her soothing voice tell him it would all be all right.

"Good man." Sawyer pounded Loveless on the back, "Guess I'll get outta' your hair then." With that, he walked away, more confused than ever.

He had hoped that after all this time he'd be over Kate. And in a way he had _felt_ over Kate. When he'd been told he was going back to LA and he'd realized that there was a chance he'd see her again, he'd thought he was ready, that it would be okay.

Over the last year and a half-ever since he'd left LA and his friends behind to join Eric Hawkins-he'd thrown himself head first into the most pleasurable, luxurious life he could possibly afford. Always new faces, new women, rounds of drinks at the classiest joints, expensive cars, and vacations to anywhere he felt like going. Money, gambling, danger, the whole bit. And after being with so many girls he'd thought he'd be over Kate. That she was just somewhere, drifting among the rest of the ghosts of the hearts he'd broken in his painful past.

But when he'd seen her standing there with Jack, looking so concerned for him, biting her lip like she always did, everything he'd thought he knew just broke down.

He wasn't over her. Even after all this time, after all those other girls-call girls and everything-she was still there. First and foremost in his mind. Her hand holding on tight to his heart, even when she didn't know it.

Now she was going to marry Jack. It was so hard not to be jealous of the doctor. After all, Sawyer had left her, had walked away, for the best. He had let the doc have her. Because she deserved something better than a trash rogue.

But he couldn't help the jealousy. It was there, large and reeking, always looming over his path, threatening to become something dangerous. He hadn't wanted to believe that Jack and Kate were getting married. Christian had told him they were having their engagement party tonight-last night now-but he hadn't wanted to admit that was possible. Some selfish part of him had still been hoping that she was waiting for him.

Kate was moving on though. That was good. He wanted her to move on, to be happy, even if he couldn't be.

Lucky Jack.

Not that Jack was particularly lucky at the moment. He'd just found out his father was alive, after all this time. He had every right to be upset. Sawyer would be upset if his father just came back from the grave too. But for different reasons.

What would he do if his father waltzed in and said 'hey son, it's me! It was all a trick—sorry for the damages.'?

Punch his fucking lights out of course. Kill him for reals.

That was probably how Jack felt. Maybe. Jack tended to be a little less violent than Sawyer was.

Which was why he was a doctor and Sawyer was…

"Ford!"

Sawyer spun around to see Agent Stark, the black man who'd been there with Muff when they'd picked up Jack and Kate, coming toward him, "Yeah Boss?"

"Don't gime' none of that 'boss' shit, Ford. What the hell ya' doin' out here wand'rin' around like a kid? Agent Shephard's been askin' for ya' for 'least ten minutes now."

"Sorry 'bout that, Starsky, didn't realize."

"Just get your hick ass back over there, an' spare me the details, Ford."

Sawyer bit back an angry reply. It would be stupid to insult Stark, since the man was his superior in every way. Besides, he didn't want Stark to know that they were on to him.

So he shrugged and started walking, "Whatever ya' say, Boss."

Stark growled and shoved him along in front of him a little. "Jus' remember, Ford, I don't trust ya'."

"I'll keep it in mind." Sawyer muttered.

Stark was a big man by all accounts, and he had an ego problem. The power of being a CIA Agent went to his head and he liked to abuse his power, as well as the people under him. On top of that, Christian had said he wasn't trustworthy. Now, Sawyer was no judge of that, but Agent Shephard had also said Emile Rosa wasn't trustworthy, and he'd been right about that. So he had to trust the chief's judgment.

Agent Muff was still in Christian's office when Stark ushered Sawyer in a little roughly, "I found him, Sir. Was just driftin' around like he's got nothin' better to do."

Christian looked a little annoyed, took a quick sip of scotch and smiled at Stark, "Excellent. Agent Muff, why don't you and Stark excuse us for a moment? Ford and I have something important to discuss."

Sawyer didn't like the sound of that. It reminded him too much of what had gotten him into this nightmare. Discussing important things with Christian Shephard was an uncertain thing, always laced with possibilities, both good and bad.

Muff nodded, Stark snorted, as if frustrated by that, and they both left.

Christian walked back to his chair and sank into it, "Have a seat, James."

Reluctantly, Sawyer sat down across from him.

The older man set his glass aside and steepled his fingers, fixing that cold, blue gaze on Sawyer, a look that said so much on its own that Sawyer felt a shudder threatening to lance through him but suppressed it. It was hard to imagine Jack growing up with this man as his father. The expectations and the fierce philosophy Christian had were overwhelming.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke, then Christian sighed, "James, I'm going to be as frank as possible with you. I know you're a man who appreciates frankness."

"'S better than ya' lyin' ta' me, I guess."

"This has been difficult, I know. Seeing them, and not being able to tell them what's going on."

"I don't even know what's goin' on, Scotch." Sawyer said darkly.

"You'll understand more in time. But none of that's important right now. What's important is that you have knowledge that Jack and Kate aren't supposed to know yet. Things that would be dangerous for them to know. And even though you don't fully comprehend all the inner workings of the circumstances, I expect you to keep the knowledge that you _do_ have to yourself.

"For starters," Christian got up again and walked around his desk, sliding his hands into his pockets, "Muff told me that you came dangerously close to letting Jack in on your own deep, dark secret."

"An' what secret might that be?"

Christian hesitated, leaned down close to Sawyer's face to whisper, "Jack and Kate can't know what you're really doing, James. Understand? They have to keep believing that you are a part of this organization. Stark, Creek and the others, they all need to believe that you are who you say you are. Because if they find out it's not real, it could be dangerous for you. And if Jack and Kate find out it's not real, it could be dangerous for them.

"You lie for a living anyway, so keep it zipped from now on." Christian went back to his seat.

Sawyer felt hot with anger, though he wasn't sure why, other than the fact that he hated to be played. He snapped, "Hey, ya' know, I didn't ask for any of this. I was just mindin' my own business when your boys-"

"I understand that James. But keep in mind, you made a deal with Agent Hudson, and you will adhere to that deal. If you do not," Christian shook his head and leaned back in his chair, looking seriously at Sawyer, "then I can't help you."

Sawyer said nothing. It was such a horrible feeling to be trapped by circumstances he didn't fully understand yet. He wanted to leave this all behind, but he had an obligation to himself. And to Kate and the doc.

"That all?" Sawyer drawled.

"Not quite." Christian sighed and paused to refill his glass, "As you know, James, I have reason to believe that some of our men are double-agents, and as you know I'm not sure yet who all we can and cannot trust. At this point, the only people I'm positive you _can _trust are Muff and Loveless."

"And you of course." Sawyer muttered. He wanted to trust Christian, even if he wasn't sure he could. Mostly because Agent Shephard had helped him, and as far as he knew, it was all out of the goodness of his heart. He could have done this without Sawyer, but he'd chosen to help him anyway. Just like Jack. Saving someone just for the sake of it.

"Because of our uncertain position, it's important for us to get Jack and Kate out of here as quickly as possible. Of course, we never would have brought them in if they hadn't seen you take out Rosa. But that couldn't be helped."

"What do we gotta' do next then?"

"Jack's not going to believe I am who I say I am unless he has tangible proof," Christian sighed, "he's always been that way. Married to his science, unable to believe in anything he can't see. So our next step is to get him the proof he wants.

"I've sent Feist over there to start the process." The older man got up once again and headed for the door, pulling his jacket on as he went, "Of course, I have to go, and I suppose it would be best if you were there too."

Sawyer followed, "Ya' got Loveless outside where Kate's bein' held. Who's guardin' Jack?"

"Muff posted Parker there."

"Can we trust 'im?"

"Muff believes we can."

"And you're sure we can trust Muffy?"

"Yes. I think so."

"You _thinkin' _we can trust Muff ain't too assuring, Hutch."

Christian smiled at him, slightly, "Boy, you and your nicknames…amazing you haven't gotten yourself killed by someone with a bad temper."

Sawyer shrugged and thought about Stark. He was the kind to kill over a stupid nickname. "I'm careful."

"No, you're not, James. That's part of the problem. You rush into things without thinking about them, not considering the consequences. You're smooth, I'll give you that, but bravado alone is not enough. Some day, unless you wise up, kiddo, you're going to stumble into the wrong man, call him a nickname he doesn't appreciate, and…well…we've all got to die some day, James."

Sawyer stopped walking and studied Christian as the older man walked ahead of him, wondering if there might be some truth in that. He'd crossed a lot of dangerous people in his time, been let off the hook by most of them because he was charming, but some day he wondered if what Christian said would come true.

"Let me…" he hurried after Christian, "Leme' ask ya' somethin', then. I get why ya' won't tell Jack, but at least tell me."

"What is it?" Christian didn't look at him.

"Why would ya' pretend ta' be dead? It don't make much sense ta' me."

"It's a good thing I did," Christian chuckled, "Or else I would have been on that plane with you when it crashed."

"So why?"

Christian sighed, "It's a complicated story, James, I can't just tell you right now right here."

"Gime' the basics."

"Because I was being followed by the enemy, and if I hadn't done what I did I really would be dead right now, and in that case, so would you."

"How'd ya' get it? The poison? Whassit called?"

"TTX? Oh, I have a friend in Sydney who's a doctor. He was willing to hook me up. Of course, it had to be someone I trusted, because the wrong dosage would have really killed me."

Sawyer mused about that a moment. "So who was after ya' in the first place?"

Christian stopped outside the door where Jack was being kept, "One question at a time, Ford." Then he looked at the man standing guard, who Sawyer assumed was Agent Parker. He was a little shorter than Sawyer and his hair was light blonde. His blue eyes were piercing. "Has Feist arrived yet?"

Parker shook his head, "No sir, not yet."

"And has Shephard been quiet?"

This time Parker smiled, "To be honest, Sir, he only just now shut up."

"He's pretty damn pissed." Sawyer muttered.

"He'll have to get over it." Christian unlocked the door.

"Ya' think that's a good idea, Chief? If Jack's pissed we don't know what he'll do."

"I think it'll be all right. You're coming in with me, aren't you?"

That wasn't a question, obviously, so Sawyer checked to make sure his gun was in place and followed Christian. It was good to have a gun with him. Ever since getting the one he'd bought in Sydney he'd been carrying a gun with him everywhere. Four years. It didn't feel natural to be without one.

Jack was still pacing when they went in, but he had retreated to the back of the room and was glaring ferociously at his father, barely even acknowledged Sawyer when he came in, "What do you want? Are you going to answer my questions now or what?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," Christian shut the door behind them, "not yet."

Sawyer righted the battered chair Jack had obviously knocked around a little and sat down. One of the legs was loose and it wobbled back and forth.

"Where's Kate? I want to see her, _right now_."

"Jack, please calm down-"

"I want to see my fiancée! I want to know that's she's safe!"

"Son-"

"If you're really my father," Jack came a little closer, fists balled, and Sawyer got ready to react if he had to, "you'll understand that, and you'll bring her here!"

"She's fine, Doc," Sawyer told him coolly, "I just saw her fifteen minutes ago. Helluva lot calmer than you are."

Jack spun on him, "She doesn't have a lunatic and a criminal telling her that her dead father's alive now!"

Sawyer wondered how Kate would react if Wayne rose from the grave.

There was a knock on the door.

"Ah, that must be Feist. James, get the door."

Sawyer eased himself up out of the chair, careful with his damaged arm, and pulled the heavy door open with his good arm. A young woman with small, stylish glasses and strawberry blonde hair piled up on her head came in. She was carrying a clipboard, and there was an assistant with her.

Christian tipped his head, "Good afternoon, Doctor Feist."

"Good afternoon, Christian." Feist returned. She had an air of sophistication in her voice, and there was something about her small, delicate face Sawyer liked. She had freckles like Kate did, and eyes that were nearly the same green. She and the assistant set straight to getting out the supplies they'd need for the blood sample.

Sawyer sank back into the chair, watching them get out a needle and several cotton balls. "You're a doctor too?" Sawyer asked, watching her intently.

Feist gave him a strange look over her shoulder, "I have a doctorate. But I'm a CIA agent. Like you."

"Right. Like me."

"What is this?" Jack demanded. "What's going on?"

Sawyer ignored him, "Little young ta' have a doctorate, ain't ya', sweet heart?"

"I'm thirty two. I believe that's old enough." Feist replied stiffly. She had the needle prepared now, came over to him, "Stand up."

"What for? I ain't the one givin'-"

"We need that chair. Agent Shephard, if you'll be so kind as to take a seat."

Agitated, Sawyer got up and backed away to stand next to Jack, who was still shifting his weight from side to side, the anger on his face clear as day.

"What the hell is this?" The doctor practically shouted.

"Well, Doc, I ain't got no doctorate, but if I had ta' guess I'd say it's the blood test ya' ordered."

"I didn't _order_ any blood test!"

"Jack, you wanted a paternity test," Christian rolled back his sleeve, "and that's what you're getting."

There was a moment of silence, in which Feist drew some blood from Christian's inner elbow and then handed the needed to her assistant, who immediately deposited it into a baggie. She slapped a band-aid on the punctured area and turned to Jack, getting out a new syringe as she did so. "You're next."

"No." Jack shook his head and backed up a little. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you people shove a strange needle in my arm!"

"It's not a strange needle," Feist explained, "it's a professional syringe used to draw blood for testing. It's even been sterilized."

"I don't care what you _say_ you're going to do! This man," Jack jabbed a finger in Christian's direction "_says_ that he's my father, but that doesn't mean he is! You _say_ that needle is for taking my blood, but what if it's _not_?"

"It's not like I found it in the park or something." Feist remained unfazed. Sawyer sort of liked the way she was handling Jack. Maybe she was a somewhat arrogant bitch, but she stayed calm under pressure.

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"Mr. Shephard, if you don't cooperate we may have to resort to force."

Jack backed away even more, reminding Sawyer of an animal in a cage, "This isn't right! I'm an American citizen! I have rights! If this is really the CIA I demand a lawyer! I demand-"

"That's enough, Jack," Christian said firmly, "you wanted a paternity test, and this is the way we're doing it. Now either sit down or things may get…unpleasant."

"I said no! Not until you answer all of my questions, tell me _exactly_ what's going on, show me that my fiancée is okay, and tell me what it is that you've got over _his_ head!" Jack jerked a thumb in Sawyer's direction. "Then, maybe, I'll be willing to submit to your little test!"

"There's no time for this, Jack. You know I can't tell you all those things."

Feist added, "Please, Doctor Shephard. We're all adults here. Please just calm down. I assure you we're not trying to hurt you."

Jack practically laughed, "You all keep making these promises, but how do I know any of its _real_?"

Christian sighed; "Fine then, Jack, you don't want to cooperate…" he turned toward the door, "Parker!"

Immediately the door opened and Parker entered, looking around a little nervously.

"Doctor Feist, please prepare the sedative. Parker, you and Ford hold Mr. Shephard steady."

"Don't you touch me!" Jack screamed, retreating even further back, but he was out of places to go, and the wall was right behind him.

Sawyer looked at him, and for a moment their eyes met, and he saw all the fear and the rage Jack was feeling, shining clearly through his gaze. But there was also a deep look of hope that Sawyer was still on his side, that he could turn to him for help. Sawyer felt torn bloody by that look. What could he do? This was all for Jack's own good-to protect him-but he couldn't tell Jack that, and even if he could, why would Jack believe him? He couldn't give him the details and the specifics. And Christian was expecting him to follow orders, to behave a trained CIA member would. To do what he was told.

Sawyer sucked at doing what he was told. He looked back at Christian, "I don't think this is such a good idea."

"I didn't ask for you opinion, Ford, just do as your told."

"Look, if he don't want it done this way can't ya' just get the q-tips an' do it _that_ way?"

"For the last time, Ford," Christian said sternly, "restrain him. That's an order."

Sawyer heard all the threats and implications in the older man's voice, and he knew that there would be consequences if he was disobedient, but one look at Jack's face and he couldn't force himself to do it. He'd already betrayed Jack's trust. He couldn't make things worse by doing this. Glaring at Agent Shephard, Sawyer growled, "I ain't takin' your orders, Agent Bender."

Christian looked exasperated, and there was an intense moment where they both just glared each other down, then Jack's father said to Feist's assistant, "You do it. Help Parker restrain him. As for you," he leveled his gaze on Sawyer again, "you're dismissed. I expect to see you in my office in twenty minutes.

Parker and Feist's assistant were approaching Jack now, and Feist had the sedative ready.

Sawyer stepped in the way, "I ain't gonna' let ya' do this ta' him."

Hesitantly, Parker looked at Christian, "Sir?"

Christian's voice quaked with irritation, "James, leave the room immediately."

"I-"

Suddenly, the older man grabbed Sawyer by the wounded arm and pulled him closer so that their faces were just inches apart, "What are you thinking, Ford? Do you want to ruin everything? Now leave the room, or there _will_ be consequences. Am I clear?"

The threat was thick, but Sawyer wasn't backing down. Maybe it was foolish to fight so hard for a battle he couldn't win, but he and Jack had been through so much together, and Jack had trusted him in the past. He couldn't give that up now. He couldn't let his friend down. Even now, he could feel Jack standing right beside him, ready to fight with him if it came to that.

It only took Christian a moment to recognize that, and then he took the walky from his belt and spoke into it, "Muff, this is Shephard. Come to room 405 immediately. We have a situation."

Sawyer couldn't hear Muff's reply, but just the fact that Christian was ordering backup had him worried. "We ain't gotta' situation, Christian, just call them off an' do your test some other way."

"Why are you so set on taking a blood sample anyway?" Jack demanded. "I just want proof that you're my father!"

"And I'm trying to give it to you."

"By shoving a needle up my arm? Why in the hell would I let you do that? I'd have to be crazy!"

"He's got a point there, Boss."

Before Christian answered, the door burst open and Muff rushed in, gun drawn, Stark right behind him. "What's the trouble, Chief?"

Christian jerked his head at Sawyer, "Get Ford out of here."

"Yes, sir."

Sawyer braced himself to fight, actually swung a fist at Stark as the big man came at him, and his blow struck right in the jaw.

Unfortunately, it did little more than make Stark angry, and the Agent pistol-whipped him.

Stunned, Sawyer fell in a heap on the floor.

"Sawyer!" Jack yelled.

"Agent Stark!" Christian scolded. They sounded a lot a like for some reason, when everything was fuzzy like it was then. "That was unnecessary!"

Then someone had his arms, and they were dragging him away, with Jack screaming in the background.

It just took Sawyer a few moments to clear his head, and when he had he realized he was sitting outside the door where they were keeping Jack, Agent Muff leaning over him, face pulled in slight concern.

"You all right, Ford?"  
Sawyer rubbed the back of his head, "Yep. Just great." He winced.

"He hit you pretty hard. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Just some water." Sawyer mumbled, mostly to get Muff to leave him alone.

Agent Muff nodded and hurried down the hall to retrieve his appointed charge.

Moaning, Sawyer touched his head again. At least it wasn't bleeding.

"Damn bastard…"

Then he listened. The room was quiet, but that was probably just because the walls and the door were soundproof. He figured Jack was screaming bloody murder, demanding to call his lawyer and everything. Or else he was already unconscious. Sawyer was a little glad that he didn't have to see Jack go through all that.

He was just about to get up when the door opened and Christian came out, flanked by Parker. He frowned at Sawyer.

"I hope you can explain this, Ford."

Sawyer didn't answer. He didn't have to explain anything.

"Did you completely forget everything I just told you in my office?"

"Didn't forget. Just a matter o' loyalty, that's all."

"Your loyalty is supposed to be with me now."

Sawyer scoffed, "Oh really?"

Christian knelt in front of him and looked in his eyes, waving his finger back and forth in front of his eyes in a manner that was just like Jack's. "Do you feel sick?"

"No."

"Can you get up?"  
"Think so."

"Good. Let's go for a walk."

Christian hoisted Sawyer to his feet and they walked, Parker following them. They went for a ways not saying anything, and every time Sawyer thought Christian was going to begin nothing happened. He assumed it was because Parker was present and wasn't supposed to hear.

The three of them wound their way through the headquarters, walking down blank, cold halls, passing apathetic people who barely looked at them, until they finally came to a large, industrial looking elevator.

Christian looked at Parker as he pressed the button, "That will be all, Agent Parker."

Parker nodded, gave Sawyer a sidelong glance, and walked away.

The elevator doors opened and Sawyer got on after Christian. It was only after the doors had closed again that the older man spoke.

"James, I understand that you and Jack are friends of some kind, but I feel like I can't stress enough the fact no one is supposed to know what your real purpose here is. What you pulled back there could easily have jeopardized everything. People saw you rebel against me-your supposed superior-in favor of a man who, as far as they know, you've only had brief contact with in the past. They obviously can't understand why, so they'll make up their own explanations for it. And the explanations they might come up with could mean trouble for us and our mission."

"Just don't get what ya' had ta' go and knock him out for an' ev'rything."

"It's not your place to question, James." Christian told him matter-of-factly, as they stepped off the elevator. They walked down a concrete hallway to a large exit door.

It was good to be outside again to breathe the crisp, night air, and for a few moments they were quiet, just walking.

Then Christian said, "I admire your spirit, James. It's hard to find men with will like you have, but I can't help but thinking that you aren't fully comprehending the situation that we're all in. Jack and Kate can't know what's going on yet, and no one can make the connection between the two of you. No one hear realizes you're one of the O7, but if they ever find out, it's going to cause a real problem for you. It's for your own good."

"Jack trustin' me's a lot more important than what anybody here thinks."

Christian chuckled. The sound was incredulous. "I find that ridiculous, James."

"What's so ridiculous about it?" Sawyer demanded.

"Don't take this the wrong way, son," Christian stopped and turned to face him, "but I really don't think Jack is ever going to trust you again after he finds out what's happening."

The words disheartened Sawyer, and he lowered his eyes, not wanting to think about it.

After a few seconds, Christian put a hand on his shoulder, and Sawyer suddenly felt much too tired to move away. "You've had to make a lot of tough decisions-and not just about this-but I assure you, it's all for the best. You're protecting Jack and Kate. If they could understand that now they'd be grateful. For now though, until the time is right, you've got to play the hard nose. You've got to act like you don't care about them, because everyone has to believe that you're an agent. If not…"

Sawyer didn't answer. He wished he could just tell Christian no, turn in his fake ID right now and just walk away, forget this had ever happened. It was no used though. He had to see this through to completion.

"I'm on your side," Christian assured, "but unless you cooperate, I can't help you. So I need you to promise that you're not going to give anything away to Jack or Kate about what you're doing. And I need you to promise that you won't act too friendly towards them."

Sawyer still couldn't look at him.

"You're a good actor, Sawyer. It's time to put those skills of yours to good use."

When the con artist still didn't say anything, Christian said, "It's been a long day. You go get some rest." Finally he released him.

"Yes sir." Sawyer muttered. He hated those words and how they turned to poison on his tongue. But he turned away and started to walk back inside.

"And James. I expect you to follow my orders from now on. Agent or no agent, you do work for me."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_The chair he sat in was hard, and uncomfortable, a chilling steel, and having his hands bound behind his back didn't help at all. The room was small, bare and quiet, and the man who was towering over him had a nasty scar on his face and a smile that made the hair on the back of Sawyer's neck stand up._

_'They finally caught me.' That was all he could think about. And this wasn't just the normal police. These people were too professional, dressed in suits and sunglasses. 'They caught me, and now it's all over…'_

_The man with the scar smiled all the more and threw a folder down on the desk. Sawyer could see that it had his name on it. "Oh, you'll help us, Ford. It doesn't matter what you want."_

_'He's right…it never does…'_

Sawyer woke up feeling cold and miserable and cramped. But that's what he got for sleeping in his car. He shook his head a little and rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath and looked out at the world. Dawn had broken already, and the distant ocean was on fire with bright orange. It was a new day with new possibilities and challenges, and after that dream he didn't feel ready to face any of it.

He looked at the clock—seven AM. He hadn't gotten much more than four hours of sleep, thanks to the uncomfortable position of sleeping in the passenger seat, but he'd decided he wasn't going back to his hotel room as long as Kate and Jack were still at headquarters, so he'd just driven around the block to a secluded area and parked there, allowing himself to get what little sleep he was able.

But now it was time to go back, check on Jack and Kate, see what Christian had told them, find out where the mission was supposed to head next.

Sawyer started the car and drove around the block a little quicker than he should have. Elementary school kids were standing out waiting for the bus, and some of the mothers who stood with them shook their heads or waved their fingers at him to suggest how much his irresponsibility bothered them. But he ignored them and rushed back to HQ, parked in the parking garage provided for agents. Then he made sure to put his business coat back on, but left the tie in the back seat, and went inside.

Sawyer strode through the building with confidence, flashing his ID at security and nodding to the agents around him. Most of them greeted him warmly. He was popular with a lot of them. They thought he was cool and charismatic, and in a lot of ways he was, but Sawyer was careful to not get too close to any of them.

First of all, their was the complication of the fact that no one could know about the operation he was working or the circumstances he was working them under.

Secondly, it was all too clear by this time how much trouble friend-making caused. Sawyer had vowed to stay aloof for as long as he was here.

Of course, there were a few agents who glared at him, jealous of his status and capability. They hated that he had come seemingly out of nowhere, just to become Agent Shephard's particular favorite, and he didn't blame them for that. Some of them were seasoned veterans, men who'd worked hard here for ten years at least, and yet he was superior to many of them.

On his way to the lounge, Sawyer noticed Agent Stark, glaring at him, and that made him remember the pain in his head from the pistol whipping he'd received. Fortunately, Stark was busily speaking with some colleagues and couldn't get away to say anything to Sawyer.

The con artist kept walking, checking his watch occasionally. He wondered if Jack had woken up yet and if Christian had talked to him at all. He wondered if Kate was okay, if they had given her a more comfortable place to stay the night or if she were still in that crowded little room. He decided that going to see her was the morning's priority, and he was going to talk to her, even if he had to knock Agent Loveless out cold. It had been too long since he'd seen her for him to wait even another moment.

Sawyer stopped by the lounge and grabbed a bagel and a cup of coffee. He ate quickly and dumped what was left of his half-empty mug down the street. As an afterthought, he grabbed a couple of donuts, wrapped them up in a napkin, and stuffed them into his coat where they'd be safe from detection. He remembered Agent Shephard's warning, but….

Trying to act nonchalant, he walked back up the hall to where Kate was being kept, but was surprised to see the door unguarded and the room empty.

So they had moved her. Or else let her go. He hoped they had just moved her, because if they'd let her go there was a chance he might not see her again.

Sawyer grabbed one of the agents who was passing by, "Hey, you."

"Me sir?"

"The chick they were keeping in that room, where is she now?"

"I believe they put her in room 200, sir. But I'm not sure."

"Is Loveless still in charge."

"As far as I know…"

Nodding, Sawyer started off in the direction of room 200. Nothing was going to get in his way of seeing Kate.

It was a long walk back to room 200, and a lot of other agents gave Sawyer weird faces, like they didn't know what he was doing in that particular area of the building. A few even tried to stop him, but he showed off the badge he carried and went on his way, barely giving any of them a second glance. He just wanted to see Kate, talk to her, even if it were only for a couple of minutes. Not even Christian Shephard could keep him from doing that. The biggest problem would be to convince Agent Loveless to let him in to see her. Sawyer tried to think of a list of things he could bribe the young agent with, but nothing came to mind. The man was steadfast in his orders, and he'd have to be lied to. Sawyer's best hope would be that Loveless wasn't there at all.

But he was, of course. Just standing there in the middle of the long, blank hallway, right in front of the door marked 200 in big, dark numbers.

Loveless watched him come from behind his sunglasses, not speaking, and Sawyer smiled his most charming smile, but the young agent didn't appear to relax. Maybe that up-tight, too-serious look was just how he always looked. Like Jack.

"Well, well. What have we got here? You're up bright an' early, Sarge."

"I thought you went home."

"Did. I'm back."

Loveless just nodded, and Sawyer thought wildly for a way to convince the younger man to let him go in.

"They moved her way down here, huh?"

Loveless shrugged, "Shephard said she'd be more comfortable."

"Damn straight. She ain't a prisoner. So."

"So?"

Sawyer feigned annoyance, "So what? Ya' gonna' let me in or we gonna' stand around flappin' our gums all day?"

"Let you in? Sir, I don't understand."

"Ah c'mon. Don't tell me nobody told ya'."

"Told me what?"

"I'm s'posed ta' talk ta' Austen."

Loveless didn't answer, and his expression didn't change.

"What? Ya' think I came all the way down here ta' talk ta' _you_, Slash?"

"Agent Shephard told me to not let anyone in unless he was here, personally giving the okay."

"Yeah, well, I got my orders from the top. The big man wants me ta' tal to her."

For the first time, Loveless looked confused, "But why would Agent Shephard tell you that when he already said I'm not supposed to let anyone in?"

"Not _Shephard_ ya' greenhorn. The _big_ man."

"Hudson?"

Sawyer just looked at him, "Ya' know another big man goin' around overruling Shephard's orders?"

"No but…" clearly the story wasn't sitting well with Loveless, "why would Hudson be getting involved. This isn't his case."

"Don't ask questions, kid, just do."

"I-I'm sorry," Loveless reached for his radio, "but I'll have to call this in to confirm."

"Hold it there, Hot Shot. What time is it?"

The younger agent hesitated, "Seven thirty."

"And at seven thirty Hudson is usually?"

"Having breakfast."

Sawyer smiled, "An' we all know how th' boss hates ta' have his breakfast interrupted."

Loveless stared at him from behind the glasses for a long time, before attempting to protest again, but Sawyer cut him off.

"Look, if ya' wanna go ahead an' get him involved, be my guest. It ain't me who's gotta' deal with the consequences. Besides. It ain't very professional ta' go questionin' the boss this early in the morning. So why don't ya' just let me do my job an' then ya' can get back to yours."

Loveless glanced over his shoulder, like he thought he'd find the answer to the problem there, "Just what is it you're supposed to be talking to her about?"

Now Sawyer pretended to be annoyed, "Oh for cryin' out—Shephard's playin' hardcase. He won't answer none of our questions, so I'm s'posed ta' get some info outta' Austen. That all right with ya', Warden?"

Reluctantly, Loveless nodded, and then stepped to the side, "Yeah. All right, sir. If you say so."

With a reassuring nod, Sawyer walked past him, going for the door.

"But for both our sakes, I hope you're telling me the truth."

"Truth?" Sawyer hesitated and turned to look at him hard, "What makes ya' think I'd be tellin' ya' anything but the truth, Loveless?"  
Loveless shrugged, "I've heard some of the men talking, sir…they say you aren't always trustworthy. Like you're some kind of silver-tongued devil."

_Silver tongued devil. That seems 'bout right._

Sawyer acted offended, "Ya' sayin' ya' don't trust me there, Nicky?"

"No, it's not that," Loveless said quickly, "I _do_ trust you, Sir. I just…don't want to have to not trust you…"

In mock disgust, Sawyer shook his head, "That's what I get, I guess. Just tryin' ta' do my damn job."

Before Loveless could say anymore, he was through the door.

The room Sawyer found himself standing in was a lot like the previous one in that it was mostly white, and totally barren, the only difference being that it was furnished with a bed and a couple of chairs, and it was larger. Kate was lying there on the bed, still wearing that pretty, white dress, her hair looking perfect, her closed face pretty and powdered with make up, completely peaceful as she dreamed. Her skirt had rode up to the mid thigh, exposing most of her slim, tan legs.

Sawyer stared at her for a few minutes. He wasn't used to seeing Kate in a dress. On the island she'd been the tough girl, never afraid to go anywhere or do anything, taking over leadership roles when she needed to. It was strange to see her looking so feminine. But he liked it.

It was a shame to wake her up, but he knew this might be his only chance to talk to her. At any moment, Loveless might radio Shephard-or even Hudson-and then Sawyer knew he'd get more than just a lecture. So he reached out and touched Kate's arm, shaking her a little and hissing.

"Kate. Hey, Kate. Wake up. C'mon, Freckles, it's me…"

Kate stirred a little, moaning and reaching out like she expected to find someone on the bed beside her. Sawyer realized with some dismay that she was looking for Jack. Her eyelids flickered, and then she looked totally startled, sat up quickly, "Sawyer?"

"SH." He gestured for her to keep it down.

"What are you doing in here?" Kate sounded wary—obviously she didn't trust him, and that hurt worse than any other realization.

"Just came ta' talk. How ya' feelin'? They treatin' ya' okay?" It all came tumbling out at once. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to tell, he just didn't know where to start.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. What about Jack? Where's he? Is he all right?"

Sawyer hated that she was asking about Jack when he still loved her so much more than the doctor ever could, but he kept his eyes focused on her face, refusing to acknowledge the ring on her finger, pretending they weren't engaged and he wasn't jealous, "The doc's fine." He promised. "He's just in another part of the building."

"Well, why didn't they bring him back? Why are they keeping us apart?"

"I'm not sure, Freckles."

Kate's frustration seemed to be growing, "Can I see him?"

"Not right now?"

"Why not?"  
"I don't know, all right? I don't call the shots around here." He said just to prevent her from asking any more questions about Jack, "Have ya' eaten yet?"

"No," she swept some hair back from her face, "I just woke up."

Nodding, Sawyer got out the donuts he'd smuggled from the lounge, handed them to her, "Here, this oughta' tide ya' over for a while."

Kate accepted gratefully and began to eat a little quickly.

Sawyer slumped back into a chair and just watched her for a little while, studying every shape and line of her, even though he already knew her form by heart.

When a few minutes had passed and the first donut was gone, Kate asked quietly, "So. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What are you doing here, James?"

Sawyer didn't like hearing his first name now any more than usual, but something about the way Kate said it was so gentle and so soothing, he almost didn't mind. "Whadya' mean?"

"Last I heard you were trying to get away from that guy. What was his name?"

"Eric Hawkins."

"Now you're working for the CIA…it just doesn't make sense."

"_With_ the CIA." Sawyer muttered.

She looked at him intently, "With?"

He sighed, wishing he could tell her the truth, "It's a long story, Freckles."

"Don't I deserve to know the answer?"

"Stuff happened, that's all. Haven't heard from Hawkins in a while…thought I'd put my talents to good use."

Kate finished off the donut and licked some frosting off her fingers. Sawyer felt the powerful urge to kiss her.

"Talents?  
"…you know."

"So you're still conning people." She sounded dismayed, and he almost hoped to dare that maybe she'd been waiting for him the last year and a half. Not that it would do either of them any good. Especially now.

"Ain't good for much else, Kate." He said tiredly.

For a little while she just looked at him, almost like she could see through the ruse. Some part of him was afraid that she could-she'd always been good at reading him-and some part of him desperately wanted her to know. But she couldn't. Not yet. It had to stay secret.

"So what? You just walked up to CIA headquarters one day, told them you were a con man and said you wanted to join them?" She sounded duly skeptical.

"Naw. Ya' could say _they_ walked up to me. Guess they decided I'd be useful."

"And now you're a CIA agent?"

"Looks like it."

"That just doesn't make sense." Kate shook her head, "Something doesn't add up."

"Well, obviously I ain't at liberty ta' give ya' all the little details."

"So there's more?"

"'Course there's more, Freckles. Nothin's ever that simple."

There was so much more. So much he wanted to tell her so he wouldn't have to carry the burden of it all by himself, but there was no use in hopping for that. All he could do at the moment was hope things worked out right. Everything seemed to be riding on Jack-whether he was cooperative or not-so maybe when the doctor started to catch up with all that was going on he and Kate could both be clued in.

Sawyer noticed Kate looking at him, staring the way he'd stared.

"What?"

"Just," she smiled, "I really missed you…"

"I missed you too, Freckles."

"I spent so many nights wishing I'd gone with you…it really drove me crazy, picturing you walking away over and over."

The statement made him both sad and excited. On one hand, he never wanted Kate to forget about him, and he never wanted to forget about her; but on the other hand, he knew that it could never be the way he wanted it to be. He'd already made his decision, and there was no going back to it.

"So, you and Doctor Giggles are tyin' the knot, huh?"

"We're supposed to be—if we ever get out of this mess."

"Ya' ready for that?"

"Of course I am. I love Jack." Her words were confident, but Sawyer detected reluctance in them.

"What's not ta' love." Sawyer muttered.

She looked at him seriously, "Sawyer…I couldn't wait for you forever."

"Didn't ask for ya' ta' wait for me at all."

"No. I guess not."

"Look," He got up and paced a little, "if ya' think you'll be happy with Jack then…ya' should be with Jack."

"Sawyer…"

The conversation was too painful to carry on with, so he changed topics quickly, "So, how's Aaron?"

"Last I knew he was doing good—really healthy. And happy. I'm glad he has a male figure in his life. A stable male figure."

"Yeah, Jack'O ain't worth a lot when he's drunk, huh?"

Kate just smiled, but there was something heartbreaking and guilty in it, "Well, what about you? Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

Sawyer shook his head, not looking at her, "No, ma'am. Not regularly. I'm too busy."

She stayed quiet. Maybe she was thinking that she had another chance at him, that because he was single she might be able to get him back somehow. He sort of hoped she was, even though he knew it was best if she didn't.

Apparently the thought of Sawyer being with someone else was too painful for Kate to think about, because she suddenly got up and began to pace the room. "So do you know what's going on with this Agent Shephard stuff? I mean, who did they take Jack to see?"

Sawyer couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't tell her, since she'd soon know anyway. "Christian Shephard."

"Jack's father?"

"Yeah. Guess ya' could say he's in charge here."

Kate stopped pacing and her eyes got sort of big, "Like in charge-in charge?"

"He's pretty much at the top. But there is one other guy who's above him. Agent Hudson."

"Then what does all this have to do with us?"

"Nothin'. Ya' were in the wrong place at th' wrong time—they'll ask ya' some questions an' let ya' go. That's all."

She stared at him incredulously.

"What?"

"Just…you shot that woman, Sawyer," she choked a little, "she was a friend of Jack's mother. I don't really understand."

Sawyer sighed. So they were back to that again. He knew he wasn't supposed to tell Kate anything, but she was so easy that the words just sort of slipped out.

"Emile Rosa-or Mrs. Hamil, as you knew her-was my partner. We were workin' on a case together."

"Partner?" Kate stared at him, "You mean she was a fellow agent?'

"'Fraid so."

"Then…what did you kill her for?"

He knew he needed to stop, but it was too late to keep from telling her, "We've been havin' some issues with our most recent mission—lotta' double agents runnin' around, spyin' for the enemy. Sorry to say, Emile Rosa was one o' them."

Kate nodded, looked deep into his eyes.

He already knew what question was coming next. There was no way to stop it, and no way to answer without giving away vital information.

"What were you doing at our hotel, James?"

Sawyer barely suppressed a sigh; he'd known the question was coming, and still he didn't know how to answer it. He had to give her as much of the truth as he could without jeopardizing hers and Jack's safety. "Rosa knew Jack's dad pretty well. She was there ta' try an'-"

The door was suddenly shoved open with a loud bang, making both Sawyer and Kate whip their heads around to stare.

A cluster of people had formed at the threshold, Christian at the front of them, Muff right over his shoulder. Further back, Jack was standing between Parker and Stark. Loveless was off to the side, looking torn between guilt and anger.

Kate's features filled with a familiar fearful look, and she stepped back, "Jack?"

The doctor smiled weakly at her. He looked a little pale, but unharmed.

Sawyer did his best to keep his cool, even though he knew this meant he was in a ton of trouble, "Howdy there, Sheriff. Just come by ta'-"

"Both of you come out of there." Christian ordered firmly; his face was full of rage, and his composed voice barely contained it.

"Look, Chris," Sawyer sighed, "I know ya' didn't want-"

"I said _out_, Ford. And bring Austen out with you."

Sawyer studied him a second, to see just how serious he was, and then he took Kate gently by the arm and escorted her out of the room, where she immediately ran to Jack and they embraced. The con artist watched for a jealous moment before he became aware of all the angry pairs of eyes on him.

All the agents looked furious—even Loveless had an innate expression of frustration and anger in his eyes. And they were all directing it at him. Kate and Jack were staring too, but they had looks of worry and fear instead.

Christian glared at Sawyer for a long time, like he was daring the con artist to say anything, and when it was apparent that Sawyer had nothing to say, he turned to his son. "Jack, Agent Loveless here will escort you off the premises and take you back to the hotel where you can pick up your car and any other belongings you may have left there. I'm sorry for the inconvenience all of this has caused, but as you already know, this is not to be discussed with anyone. Not even your mother."

Jack nodded and Christian turned to Kate.

"That goes for you as well, Miss Austen."

"What's going to happen to Sawyer?" Jack demanded. He seemed a little more together and a bit bolder than before. He probably had been shown the blood test results. And of course Jack had total faith in his science.

Christian leveled his cool gaze on Sawyer, "As for you, Ford…I think Agent Hudson would like to have a little chat with you."

Hey guys! Sorry this was late. And also sorry it's not as action-packed as you were hoping for. I have finals coming up next week so I couldn't spend as much time on this chapter as I wanted to.

**Hope you enjoyed it anyway. :D**

**Suta-17**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Waking up was a slow, uncertain process. It was almost like he could feel the drugs running in his bloodstream, an unnatural, somehow cold feeling.

Afraid of what he'd find, Jack opened his eyes, forcing himself to face all the things that scared him so much.

To Jack's surprise, he was lying on what seemed to be a soft, leather couch. Not really a couch, but one of those big, reclining chairs like they had in shrink's offices. Jack had never been to a shrink. He'd probably needed to go a few times, but he'd never been able to make himself do it. So he didn't really know if those were the kinds of chairs they had in shrinks' offices, but that was what they always showed in the movies. He could only assume…

The room he was in was large and luxurious, with cool-tone ceilings and walls and dark, cherry wood furniture—bookcases and a big, round coffee table pinched between an arrangement of black leather chairs and couches. The atmosphere was pleasant-he felt the sweet breath of air conditioning-and the light was natural and easy to look at. The kind of temperate, gray light that came through the windows only during the very early, morning hours. Right beside him was a large window with long, pale curtains, and all he could see outside was the clear, blue sky. The sun was barely up, and he guessed it was only six or so in the morning.

For a long time Jack was content to just lay there and relax, to not worry about what was happening to his life, not worry about anything, but the longer he lay there the more memories came back. He remembered being locked in a small, white room, something about his father…Sawyer…flashes of a strawberry blonde holding a hypodermic needle…

Jack sat up quickly as everything suddenly came back to him—how Sawyer had popped back up in his life, playing like he was a secret agent or something like that, how there was a man pretending to be his father, and the fact that they'd taken a blood sample to prove that they were related. At least, they'd said it was a blood sample. Jack couldn't be any more sure of that than he could that James "Sawyer" Ford, renowned con man, was suddenly, miraculously even, a hard-working, federal employee. It was all too ridiculous, and Jack even chuckled to himself a little.

And Kate. Where was Kate now? First he needed to find his fiancée. That was priority. He needed to figure out what had happened, starting with what they had pumped into him and where they had brought him to, what they were holding over Sawyer's head to make him do this, and who the hell the man cosplaying as Christian Shephard was.

He didn't doubt that they were holding _something_ over Sawyer's head. After all, the con artist claimed he was doing this for money, but last Jack had known Sawyer had a sweet racket going, conning people professionally for a crime boss named Eric Hawkins. Why would he drop that and start, apparently, busting the same kind of people he'd just been working for? And if he were really tied to so-called Christian Shephard, why would he go against his superior's orders when it came to restraining Jack for the sedative they'd given him?

He remembered how vehemently Sawyer had been opposed to it, how he had refused to follow orders, how he had gone so far as to get between Jack and the other 'agents', and eventually gotten knocked into next Tuesday for it. Where was Sawyer now? Was he okay? Maybe he was locked up to now. He'd have to find him, make sure he was okay. He owed him that at least.

But first Kate. Kate first and foremost, above all, before anything else.

For the first time, Jack noticed the tinkling of a glass, and something about it was very familiar.

A little too late, he recognized that it was ice crackling in a glass of alcohol, and he jumped up, got a severe headrush, and fell back down immediately.

"Good morning, Jack." The fake Christian said. He was sitting a few yards away in an ominous, black leather armchair, much like the one the real Christian Shephard had had when Jack was a child, and it made him look just as ominous and detached and untouchable as Jack's father had ever been.

"Easy, Son. Just take it easy."

"Where am I?" Jack choked out. His voice was hoarse, throat dry, probably from screaming.

Fake Christian sighed and got up fluidly-so fluidly for an older man-moved across the room to a little table that was pressed up against the wall, just the way the real Christian Shephard would have. He poured perfectly clear water from a crystalline pitcher into a crystalline glass and brought it back to Jack, saying "First things first, Jack." Just the way his real father might have.

And then he smiled. That was convincing. It really looked genuine and true. He offered Jack the glass but Jack knew better than to take it, and he just glared back at fake Christian from his place on the shrink's couch-chair thing.

"You'd do well to stay hydrated, son."

"I don't want your water," Jack husked, "I want some damn answers."

"I promise answers are coming, Jack, but not until you drink this down."

So fatherly. So real. It made Jack laugh out loud. Then he took the glass, with a short, insolent glance to fake Christian, sipped it tentatively. It seemed all right—just normal, purified water. It tasted like it was from a bottle, not the nasty tap of LA. Jack took a chance and drank it all, because the moment the water touched his tongue he realized how maddeningly thirsty he was, and then he couldn't stop himself anyway.

Fake Christian returned to his chair and sat there, holding his scotch glass and looking foppish. He smiled again when Jack finished the water.

"Where're Kate and Sawyer." Jack demanded, the moment he'd finished the water off.

"They're safe, I promise."

"That's not an answer."

"It's not the answer you want."

"And what _is _the answer I want?"

"Kate is back at HQ; I sent James home to get some rest. He seems a little stressed."

Jack scowled. He sounded like he actually gave a damn about Sawyer, and then he couldn't help remembering how friendly this fake version of Christian had been with Sawyer. It was a painful memory, even when he knew that this wasn't really his father. It just couldn't be.

"Where am I?"

"My apartment."

"Why?"

"I thought," Christian looked around, "maybe you'd be more comfortable here. We have a lot to discuss, and you're not a prisoner by any means."

Jack ran through that in his head, "Isn't that some kind of security breach, bringing me here?"

"Technically it might be. But this is a special case, Jack. Everything about this case is special."

"And what exactly is this _case?_" Jack demanded, toying with the water glass, eyes darting to and fro through the room, sure he'd find danger somewhere.

"I can't really discuss the details of it, but you must understand-it's important that you understand-that you getting involved was a complete accident. James was careless. But that can't be helped now. It's not important." Fake Christian got up and started to pace, one hand in his pocket, the other stirring his scotch glass thoughtfully, "What's important is that you and Miss Austen are involved now. You saw what James had to do to Emile Rosa, and for better or worse, you now realize that Sawyer is back in LA, and you know that I'm alive. Where we go from here is what's really the issue."

"I'm not hearing anything from you until you can prove that you're my father."

"I knew you'd say that. Well, as opposed to it as you were, we did manage to get our blood sample, and I have the results," he walked to the coffee table where a large, manila envelope had been placed, "right here." Fake Christian set the scotch down and opened the envelope with care, read the results over a moment. Nodded like he thought everything was as it should be.

"Would you like to see?" He offered them to Jack.

Jack accepted them slowly, scanned them with his eyes. They looked official. Everything was in place—the DNA coding, the crisp black ink immaculately placed on the white sheet, the doctor's signature that verified it all. The documents could have been forged, but they looked extremely realistic. Jack stared for a long, long time at the results, trying to convince himself one way or another, but the truth was, he wasn't going to just believe this man's story because of a sheet of paper. He needed something else. Something real.

As if he'd read his mind, fake Christian said, "You asked for a blood test, Jack. If that's not good enough I really don't know how else I can prove it to you—but I _am_ your father."

Jack started pacing now, back and forth, around and around the shrink couch, like a caged animal. He had to know. He couldn't play this game anymore. He couldn't keep chasing after a ghost, hoping his father was alive, regretting that they'd never been reconciled, hoping he _wasn't_ alive, glad that he was out of his life, trying to soothe the pain with things that weren't strong enough. He just had to know. Either Christian Shephard was dead or he wasn't, and he couldn't go a minute longer not knowing the absolute truth.

"Before my wedding to Sarah," Jack said quietly, "I was supposed to write my own vows. But I couldn't do it. I was sitting out at the hotel pool, reading what Sarah had written, and-"

"And I showed up. I don't think you were expecting me to."

"No." Jack said darkly. "I wasn't expecting _him_ to show up."

"I remember that flight." Fake Christian said, almost seeming like he really did remember it. "Screaming baby…"

It was admittedly strange that he would know about the screaming baby, but that didn't change anything. "

"Do you _remember_ what I was doing?" Jack sneered.

"You were reading Sarah's wedding vows, of course. Said you were having trouble thinking of your own." Fake Christian smiled broadly, "I'll admit, I worried a moment when I read them, thought they were yours. But, like I said then, you're a doctor-"

"Not a writer." Jack chanced a glance at him.

"Exactly." Fake Christian looked at him, "Jack, we could go around and around with this. The 'do you remember this event that only you and I know about?' test is touching for melodrama, but it won't get anything accomplished. Whether you want to believe it or not, I am your father, and I am not dead, and yes, I did fake my death—but I did it to protect you."

But by this time Jack was honestly curious. The few facts Fake Christian had stated were irrelevant, but that didn't mean someone couldn't have informed him. And yet now there was that remote possibility that this really _was_ Christian Shephard. "I need to know," Jack said, "I _need _to be absolutely certain that you are who you say you are. How can I trust you," he shrugged, "if I'm not?"

Fake Christian looked at him, with that exact expression, with those perfect eyes, and Jack wanted to think that the passing of time had blurred his memories of his father, that this man was just a very, very close look-a-like. But he wasn't sure. At last Fake Christian sighed, "For a large part of my life, Jack, I've felt that I have let you down. I loved your mother, but I couldn't be the husband-or the father-that I wanted to be. That I needed to be."

Jack did a double-take of Fake Christian as words that were nearly verbatim of the fear he had expressed that night by the pool were regurgitated to him. Could that have been coincidence?

_What if I can't be the husband or the father that I want to be? What if I asked her because I saved her life?_

One look at those serious, blue eyes. No. That hadn't been a mistake.

But Christian kept going, sweeping Jack further back into the memory, until he could almost feel the warm water flowing over his feet and the cool breeze of the night caressing his face.

"So when you looked at me like that…asking if you should marry the girl you claimed to love…what could I say, Jack? I didn't have all the answers then, and I don't have all the answers now. But then, I couldn't say nothing, could I?"

Jack didn't answer. The memory was so real now. He remembered how desperately he'd been looking for assurance, how badly he'd craved some paternal word of advice, something that would give him hope and encouragement, and how he'd instead received…pain and disappointment. It had always been that way with Christian.

"Maybe you'll know some day though, kiddo. Maybe some day, there will be a son of your own, looking at you with his mother's eyes, asking you the same kinds of hard questions as you asked me that night, and then maybe you'll know just how hard it really is to be a father."

There was a stab of sharp pain somewhere in his heart, but Jack wasn't sure what its exact source was. Maybe there was still some part of him that wanted so badly to start over with Christian, to go back and play catch and go to baseball games and just be a child—a son with his father. And here, all this time, he'd thought he'd been ready to let Christian Shephard be dead.

"But I was right you know," fake Christian continued, looking steadily at Jack. "In the end, you were too committed. You wanted something ideal too badly. And because of that…" he shrugged, "…you're just not good at letting go…"

"There are some things that shouldn't have to be let go of."

"Dead fathers, for example."

Jack thought hard. Could there have been someone eavesdropping that night? No. That didn't seem possible. That was years before Christian's death, and there couldn't have been someone following them around for all that time, gathering evidence just in case something happened to the real Christian. That was far too elaborate.

But that could only mean one thing.

Reluctantly almost, Jack looked at Christian, studied the harsh face and the chilly blue eyes, swallowing every detail and logging it away to memory. And still it felt so impossible. He dared to speak. "Dad?"

Christian's smile deepened. "It's me, Son. It's okay."  
Jack's throat got tight as he stared at that smile and his eyes burned. Oh no. Not here. Not in front of…

Something over Christian's shoulder caught his eye, and he let his eyes drift that way. White tennis shoes, sitting up on a shelf with some other miscellaneous items. They looked vaguely familiar. Slowly, he wandered past Christian, still staring.

"Jack?"

"These." He reached up to touch the shoes, hardly believing it. His shoes. The same old, white tennis shoes he'd put on his dead father's body because he hadn't cared enough to…

"These shoes…"

Christian sighed, "I guess when I woke up I should have felt a little insulted that my own son didn't bother to buy me some nice shoes to be buried in. But really, I was just grateful to have shoes at all."

Jack lifted a shoe reverently off the shelf and turned it over in his hands, remembering how vehemently he'd shoved the small seed of guilt to the back of his mind as he'd put these on Christian's alleged corpse.

So that was that then. These were the shoes. Those were the events. And this was Christian Shephard, back from the dead.

"I-I don't understand," he couldn't bare to look up at his father, "why?" He choked once, the tightness in his throat getting worse. Soon he wouldn't be able to hold it all back. "Why did you do this…?"

"It doesn't matter, Jack," Christian came forward, voice unusually tender, "I'm sorry I can't explain everything to you as you'd like me to. I don't have all the answers, and I can't give you all the answers that you want."

Jack felt that warm, firm hand on his shoulder, comforting and vindicating all at once, bringing back memories of hurt and a few, precious memories of safety.

"All that matters now is that I'm alive; I'm sorry I had to fool you, Jack, but I was called to a much higher purpose than any I'd known in my previous life." He hesitated, almost like he was feeling the same emotions Jack was, "I did regret it though. I did regret leaving you."

"I don't understand," Jack admitted, a sob finally managing to tear out of him, "all this…what does it have to do with me and Kate and Sawyer? Why-"

"In time, Jack." It sounded like a promise, so Jack let it drop.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Jack murmured, forcing himself to look Christian in the eyes. "About getting you dismissed, about the shoes, the-"

Almost before Jack could understand what was happening, strong arms were wrapped around him, and he was surrounded by emotions and feelings and a kind of touch he felt like he'd never been exposed to in his whole life. Christian was hugging him, something he could barely remember, something he was sure the Chief of Surgery had never done when he was a child. It was always 'you're not good enough for this' and 'you don't have what it takes' and 'you can't save everyone—don't be a hero', so this was odd. It was bizarre and new and out of place, and still it felt so right, so good, Jack never wanted it to go away. That warmth that was starting to buzz somewhere inside his chest felt so perfectly real, and he didn't want anything to take it from him.

Christian whispered, "Let's just forget all about it, all right?"

Jack barely jerked his chin in a nod, too stunned to answer properly. Why did he feel like he was nine again? How could all this be happening so fast?

All too quickly, the arms were gone and Christian had turned away. Without Jack even realizing it he had taken the shoe from his son's hands and put it back in it's place beside the other one. "Now, as touching as this reunion has been, there's still a lot that I'd like to discuss. It's just after seven now—how about breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Jack sputtered. He felt totally dizzied by the events.

"On me." Christian assured with a smile.

His son looked at him suspiciously, "And then you'll answer my questions? Over breakfast?"

"I'll answer some of them."

That felt like a promise too, so Jack nodded again.

Smiling all the more, Christian picked up his scotch glass off the coffee table and took it over to set it beside the pitcher. For the first time Jack realized it wasn't scotch at all, but water. He watched his father retrieve his sports coat.

"How's your mother? I've been trying to keep track of her, but it's difficult when I have to move around so much."

"She's fine." The conversation seemed unreal. His father. Alive. After all this time. He wanted to be angry, and yet he couldn't find it in him to express the rage he thought should have been there. Similarly, he couldn't find the joy that seemed appropriate either. It was just a dream.

"I'm glad. I'm sure that my death was hard on her."

"Will you ever tell her?"

Christian frowned for the first time in a few moments, "Not in the immediate future. It's important that I stay dead for a while longer, but some day, hopefully, I'll be able to go back to her. I just hope she doesn't replace me." He grinned up at his son, "She hasn't yet, has she?"

"No."

Christian nodded, "Well-"

He stopped suddenly as there was a short, high-frequency beep, took a cell phone out of his pocket, "This is Shephard."

Jack waited silently, stunned by the professional tone Christian was utilizing.

"He _what?_"

A moment of uncertain silence.

"No. No. Don't do anything, Nicholas. Have you informed Hudson?"

Christian was quiet again, his face becoming more and more grave as time passed. He looked genuinely angry after a few seconds had passed. "You know that you report directly to me in all aspects concerning this case—Hudson has no jurisdiction in-oh he did? That was foolish. I see. No. No you just wait for me. I'll be there soon. All right." He hung up abruptly and hurried to the other end of the room, opening the door there and proceeding into what was a pristine office with a large, polished desk and several bright windows.

"What was that?" Jack asked, following him tentatively.

"It seems your _friend_ took it upon my self to once again ignore my direct orders." Christian picked up the receiver for a white phone and dialed on it efficiently, the buttons making low-key sounds.

"Friend?"

He glanced up, "Sawyer. Hello? This is Agent Shephard. I'm well aware of what time it is, just put him on." Christian glared, almost like the person on the other line could see him. "It's an emerge-thank-you."

"What did Sawyer do?" Jack dared to ask, when he got the chance.

Christian waved him off, and Jack felt considerably insulted by the gesture.

"Thomas. This is Christian. Yes. I've heard. Yes. I'm sorry he bothered you with it—Ford's fault. No. I don't think there's any reason you should-"

He stopped suddenly. Thomas-whoever he was-had cut Christian off pretty sharply. "I _understand_ that, but I don't think it's any reason for-" Again. Christian's expression showed that he was annoyed at being interrupted over and over. "I'll handle it, Sir."

_Sir._ So there was someone above even 'Agent Shephard.'

"I don't think that's necessary. I-" Christian sighed and waited. "Are you sure?" His voice was a little more subdued. "He is a US citizen, after all. There are laws, regulations, you can't just-"

Jack was starting to really wonder what it was Sawyer had done to cause so much fuss. He wished there were some way to get in on the conversation, but no matter how hard he strained to listen, all he could hear on the other end of the line was a very vague suggestion of a human voice.

At last, Christian sounded totally convinced. "Yes sir. I understand. I'll go deal with it immediately. Yes sir. All right."

He hung up suddenly, but Jack got the feeling he was the one who'd been hung up on. Christian looked at Jack, "Sorry Son. Breakfast has to be rescheduled." Then he hurried to the door.

Jack ran after, "Where are we going?"

"Back to the headquarters."

"What did Sawyer do?"  
"Sawyer's just…insubordinate…"

Jack chuckled, "Yeah. That sounds about right."

"He may regret it this time."

"What's going to happen to him?"

They were rushing down the hall now, through a nice apartment building, and Jack couldn't help wondering if Christian really lived here. It was a while before his father answered, and they went straight to the elevator, but were quiet inside since they were joined by several other people. It was only when they were outside in the morning light and heading for the parking garage that Christian answered, "Don't worry about that, Jack."

That was nothing near a satisfactory response.

Christian was picking up the pace, walking very directly, and very quickly, toward something. A car, Jack assumed.

Further down the line was a new-model, bright blue Jaguar convertible. The top was down and the paint job sparkled. The chrome was shiny like a mirror. Jack would have walked right past it if Christian hadn't shouted to him, "Here."

"Nice car." Jack commented, sliding into the passenger's side.

Christian didn't respond. The wrinkles in his forehead suggested just how upset he was, but Jack didn't know what the real source of the disconcertion was. Sawyer must have disobeyed a serious order: some life or death thing.

_That idiot…_

Hopefully the con artist hadn't gotten Kate roped into it as well. Hopefully the consequences wouldn't be too severe.

Christian whipped out of the parking space and spun the car around in a tight three-sixty, revved the engine and sped back the way they'd come, taking the corners fast, spinning the wheel like a pro. Jack caught his breath and tried to adjust as Christian ripped onto the main street and pulled a wide and very illegal u-turn. He glanced around, trying to figure out where they were, but nothing looked familiar. It was only when they'd gone a few blocks that he asked, "Who's this Thomas guy? Is he your boss?"

His father didn't answer. He seemed totally absorbed by driving.

"Dad?"

"Thomas Hudson…he's not my boss."

"Then who is he?" Jack demanded, a little annoyed. "He sure seemed like your boss on the phone."

"We're technically on the same level. It's just that in this particular case…" he glanced at Jack, like he had just remembered who he was talking to, "let's just say he's got a the advantage at the moment."

"Advantage? In what?"

Christian ripped a sudden turn, pulling off onto the side of the road.

"Hey. What's going on?" Jack glanced around nervously. Even though it had been established that this was his father, he still had his doubts about what he could and couldn't trust him on.

Christian reached into his pocket and produced a blue bandana, "Put this on."

"What for?"

"Because, Jack," he sighed, "I can't have you seeing where the headquarters is. I'm sorry, that's just regulations, now please."

"I think I deserve to-"

"I can't take you there without you wearing that thing, and at the moment, if we don't get back there STAT chances are something very bad is going to happen to James…and possibly Kate as well, depending on what he's told her."

"Told her?"

Christian sighed, "I can see you're going to be stubborn about this. Sawyer is supposed to have very limited contact with you and your fiancée, mostly because we don't want certain other agents to know that he's familiar with either of you, and also because we don't want him to leak any information."

"Why would Sawyer leak information?"  
"I'm sorry, Jack, that's really all that I can tell you right now, but unless you put the blindfold on Sawyer's going to get his ass busted by someone other than me, and then the punishment will be much, much worse."

Jack studied him a moment. It was another one of those things—a decision he had to make between doing the sensible thing and sticking to his guns. In the end, he decided that he'd better just put the blindfold on, so he took it, tight it loosely around his eyes and nodded to Christian.

His father leaned over and pulled the bandana tighter, making sure Jack couldn't see, and only then did he feel the car moving again.

For a few minutes they were quiet, and then Christian sighed, "Jack, I'm sorry I couldn't give you all the answers today, and now that this has come up, I can't even give you the answers I _was_ going to give you. You'll just have to trust me for now though, when I say that this has to stay a secret."

Jack would have looked at him if he could, "What exactly?"  
"All of it. Where you've been since last night, what happened at the hotel with James and Rosa, and _especially_ that I'm alive. No one can know about that. Not your mother, not any family friends, no one. I realize that's hard to understand, but believe me, if they knew, it would be dangerous for all of you, and me too."

It took Jack a moment to think that over, "What should I tell them instead?"

"Well kiddo," Jack could hear the smile on Christians lips, "that's not really my problem."

Typical.

It seemed they didn't drive very long-not more than thirty minutes-but they took a lot of turns and twists, and soon Jack wasn't sure which direction they were heading in. It felt like west, but he couldn't be sure.

Eventually the car slowed, and not long after it stopped all together. The engine shut off and Christian ordered, "Leave it on until I say otherwise." A car door slammed-presumably Christian's-and then Jack felt his own door open, and Christian took his arm, began to guide him a long. Their steps were loud and echoed, so the room was probably large, and Jack got the idea that the floor was concrete, or something similar. They walked a good distance in silence, Christian turning Jack to go around a corner frequently. There was the sound of a door opening, a blast of cool breeze, and then he could feel that they were in a hall.

"Muff," Christian said, obviously speaking into his radio, "this is Shephard. We have a situation—I'm bringing Jack. I want you, Stark and Parker to meet me outside the room where we're holding Austen immediately. Can you be there in five minutes?"

Jack heard the faint voice of Muff confirm, then Christian simply said, "Good." The radio went off.

"Can I take this off yet?"

"Oh, sorry." Christian undid the blindfold and tucked it away, "Forgot you were wearing it."

Jack blinked in the artificial light: from the blank, white halls he was seeing he guessed they were back in the same building.

"Just how much trouble is Sawyer in?" Jack asked, walking shoulder to shoulder with Christian.

"He's disobeyed direct orders twice now, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's a major deal in the CIA."

"Can't you just discharge him or something?" It was more a test than a question. Sawyer had said something about working _with_ the CIA rather than _for_ the CIA, and Jack sensed that this might be an ample opportunity to explore that idea further.

"In this case," Christian muttered, "it's just not that simple."

There were more questions to ask, but then they rounded a corner, and Jack saw agents Muff, Stark and Parker standing there, looking eager and angry. There was one more man with them, a kid from the look of him, with dark hair and sunglasses. He looked embarrassed, and Jack got the idea that the big, black guy-Agent Stark-was scolding him.

"Muff." Christian nodded to the other Agents. "All right. Open it up, Loveless."

The kid nodded and snapped to, "Yes sir."

Christian gestured to Jack, "Keep a short leash on him."

Jack started to protest, but then he was between Stark and Parker, and the door was open. Sawyer was standing there with Kate, and they both looked caught between surprise and fear.

At first, Sawyer tried to downplay whatever had happened, joking weakly and kicking around nicknames, but Christian quickly made it clear that it wouldn't work, ordered Sawyer to bring Kate out.

Jack looked his fiancée over carefully. She seemed okay: no injuries or anything. Sort of sleep deprived and scared looking, but nothing was physically wrong with her. She came to him immediately, and he wrapped her up in his arms, holding her tight, "Are you all right?"

She nodded, "You?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Kate snuggled into his shoulder and breathed a heavy sigh, "Good."

Being reunited with her was good and it took a lot off his mind, so Jack tried to relax, but Christian was glaring at Sawyer so fiercely that the relief was short-lived, and all at once he was worried again, about these consequences Christian had mentioned.

After that, Christian told Jack that he and Kate would be escorted back to their hotel by Loveless-the kid with the sunglasses-and reiterated that no one was supposed to know about the events of the past twelve hours. Then they were both blindfolded again and marched down the hall.

For just a second, Jack panicked again, worrying about what would happen to Sawyer and who Hudson was exactly, what he would do to Sawyer, what was going on in the first place. Home seemed a long ways away, and everything that had been normal in his life yesterday morning now felt strange.

But then he felt Kate reach over and take his hand. She squeezed it gently, reassuringly like a mother would, and then everything made just a little more sense.

The fist hit hard, right in the jaw, and would have knocked him back if he weren't being restrained. His face was hot and he felt blood gushing down from his forehead, lips and nose; he was breathing hard and that just made it all the more obvious how bad his torso hurt. It was a sharp pain that came with every breath, and it made he want to just hold a single lungful of air until he passed out, but that was out of the question.

Another blow, this one in the stomach, doubling him over, and he gasped and coughed, vision going fuzzy. Even then, the man kept beating on him, hitting him over the head, kicking him occasionally, punching his face, until he thought he just couldn't stand it.

And the whole time, that tall man with the scar loomed at the back of the room, observing it all.

Sawyer wanted to die. He hated this. The humiliation was intolerable and the helplessness was worse. No matter where he went or what he did, he could never get these men back for their treatment of him. He couldn't just be free of them, they were a permanent fixture in his life. And each blow debased his humanity just a little further until he felt like he was nothing more than a number.

Maybe seeing Kate hadn't been worth all this.

The blows rained for what fell like forever, totally merciless, and the owners of the fists were just vague, shadowy figures with sunglasses and frowns. There was no way to even hate them when they were so amorphous, so he hated the man at the back of the room instead. With every fiber he had.

Finally, when it felt like he couldn't take the beating for a moment longer, when he thought he was just going to curl up and die from the humiliation and the helplessness and agony, it finally stopped.

The blows stopped falling, the other man stopped holding him upright, and Sawyer stopped standing. He crumpled to the ground, breathing hard and bleeding fiercely. Someone threw his sports coat at him and it fell over his head, providing a curtain—momentary relief. For just a few seconds, he could pretend this wasn't real and those brutal men weren't really out there, ready to give him more hell the second he uttered something that even sounded like it could have potential as a nickname.

His shirt was torn, his skin bruised, and he was totally broken by the beating. There was little left to hold his head up for just then. Sawyer tested his ribs, making sure they weren't broken. No. They were all intact from the feel of it, but there was some major bruising.

"So Ford," heavy, weighted steps came across the room, getting closer and closer, and that voice was deep as the sea, and twice as dark, "so."

The curtain was lifted up and the light struck him hard in the eyes, making him squint.

Someone grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up, even when he'd rather gouge out his own eyes.

He was a big man-about twice Sawyer's size in the shoulders-but only an inch or two taller, and he was dressed in black, with an immaculate tuxedo. His hair was buzzed short, jarhead style, his brows heavy set making him always look angry. Or maybe not. Sawyer had never seen him anything but angry. The scar etched over his left eye was a war wound. Or something. It made Thomas Hudson seem even more dangerous than he already was.

The men behind him were just as tall, but not as big, both bald, both white, both hiding their eyes behind sunglasses. They were completely non-descript, and Sawyer had never heard either of them speak. But their names, supposedly, were Kelly Wagner and Derek Pool. Sawyer didn't really know what the hierarchy was within the CIA, but apparently Wagner and Pool were Hudson's right hand men. Whether or not that gave them more power than Christian Shephard he didn't know. But it definitely gave them more power than him.

He also wasn't sure if it was okay for the CIA to beat the crap out of an American citizen like himself, but as things stood, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Hudson was a powerful man, a dangerous man, and Sawyer was at his mercy.

"So," Sawyer scoffed, desperately trying to retain even the slightest sense of self "know any more fun games, or was that th' main attraction?"

Hudson slapped him hard, with the back of his hand, snapping Sawyer's head back and knocking one of his teeth loose.

"I told you, Ford, you cut the cute act with me."

"Right. Sorry." Sawyer spat out a mouthful of blood and glared up at Hudson, who was starting to pace the room.

"Well, where are we at now, Ford? I'd say you're in pretty deep. Isn't that right, boys?"

Wagner and Pool didn't answer, but they watched Hudson the way attack dogs watch their master, waiting patiently for the order to kill.

"Care to explain why that is?"

Sawyer didn't answer. There was literally nothing he could say that wouldn't get him smacked again. So he just sat there hating Hudson in a way he hadn't hated anyone since he'd killed Lock's father.

"We had an agreement, Ford, and I expected you to keep your end."

"I kept my end." Sawyer protested quietly.

Immediately, Hudson was in his face. "You know, I was very generous letting Christian take you under his wing like this—I didn't have to do that. And do you remember the only condition for _why_ I allowed him to do that?"

Sawyer stared back at Hudson, barely controlling the urge to punch his ugly, structureless face. If he'd had a gun…

"You're expected to do whatever Shephard tells you-whether that's assassinate the president of the United States or clean the john-you do it, no questions, no objections. Just do. And if you don't, then Shephard gets taken off the case, I take over, and you're _my_ lackey. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Sawyer barely suppressed a shudder, but he wasn't going to show any weakness to this man. Not one vital drop. That was exactly what Hudson wanted. So he hid it, just the way he hid everything from anyone.

Hudson didn't show his disappointment any more than Sawyer showed the fear, but he knew it was there. "So even though this case is close to home, I suggest you do as you're told, Ford. I'm not as nice as Shephard is. I don't think you'd want to work for me."

"I didn't tell Austen nothin'." Sawyer muttered. "Just took her a damn donut."

Hudson looked outraged that Sawyer was daring to so much as breathe, let alone speak, "But your orders were to stay away from her, away from them both. Can't you follow orders, or do you need to be taught some manners? Hick bastard."

The insult made Sawyer's face burn with anger, and he couldn't catch himself before snapping, "I ain't part o' this circus."

The big man laughed suddenly, "You think not? Should I just have my boys rough you around a little longer? See if that changes your mind?"

He couldn't quite hide the shiver this time, and he murmured, "Ya' can't treat me like this. It's-"

"You're a criminal, Ford, lest you forget." Hudson went and perched on the very edge of the table of the interrogation room and took out a pack of cigarettes. He made like to offer Sawyer one, but when the con artist refused he just tossed one down on the ground anyway, like he expected Sawyer to pick it up, put it in his mouth and be grateful. "That's all you are, that's all you've ever been and all you can ever be." He leaned forward, eyes glittering. They were so dark, Sawyer couldn't even tell what color they were. "You've got a helluva record going, Ford. If I turned you in to the government…with all the crap you've got behind you, even before your plane crash, add it all up and you could be looking at life."

Sawyer lowered his eyes.

Hudson stood up again and began to pace around, circling Sawyer like a hunting shark, "You've been grifting and conning and just outright stealing ever since you were nineteen years old. Now with this new association with organized crime, Eric Hawkins-your boss-it's not looking good for you. If you ever got sentenced I'm willing to bet it wouldn't be pretty."

"Ya've made this speech before," Sawyer snapped. "I got it."

"I don't think you do though. See, that's why we made this little arrangement, remember? You help us out with this case, and we clean your record off—clear the whole slate."

_Clean slates._ They made him think of Little House. And Kate. He wished she were here.

Hudson crouched so that he was in his face again, "Don't you remember that deal? We made it not that long ago. I hope you remember. Or maybe they hit you a little too hard." His hand touched Sawyer's hair, almost gently.

Sawyer jerked his head away, snarling, "Keep your fuckin' hands off me."

Hudson grabbed his chin again, tighter this time, bruising his face, jerked his head so that he was forced to look at the bigger man, "You've pushed it twice in the last two days, Ford. And you interrupted my breakfast—you know I don't like that. So now, you're paying the price for that. You break the rules one more time, and _Christian_ Shephard won't be able to save your ass, and neither will his pussy of a son or that bitch he fucks around with."

Sawyer felt furious at hearing Jack and Kate degraded, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing. The helplessness…it was like drowning.

"You're going to finish this case, James," Hudson leaned forward to whisper in Sawyer's ear, "do you understand."

"I understand." Sawyer growled.

"Good." Hudson let go of him and stood up, "So you do as your told from now on, or I'll ream you a new asshole, right before I drag you down to LAPD and let them decide which prison is going to be your new life-long home." Wagner and Pool followed him to the door, "You just keep that all in mind while you wait here for a while." Hudson turned to wag one finger at Sawyer, "Strike three, James. One more time and you're out."

Then he was gone and the door slammed.

It was only then that Sawyer realized just how bad he was shaking, just how bad all the wounds hurt and how afraid he was, how fast his heart was beating, how blurry his vision was. He groped for the cigarette Hudson had left, hoping it would calm his nerves, but his hands were shaking so bad that he kept dropping it.

Finally, when he got it to his mouth, he realized he didn't have a lighter, so he just leaned back against the wall and thought about the horrible mess he'd gotten roped into. He closed his eyes, wishing it away.

When he opened them again, what felt like seconds later, Christian was kneeling beside him, shaking his shoulder and saying his names.

Sawyer sat up straight and rubbed his head, feeling hot, sticky blood on his hand.

"Looks like you got hell." Christian pointed out casually.

"Where's Jack…'n Kate…" it was so hard to say her name for some reason.

Christian frowned, "I sent them home, remember? You don't have a head injury, do you?" Almost immediately he produced his penlight and started waving it back and forth in Sawyer's face.

The con artist laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Christian asked half-heartedly, still involved in his assessment.

"Just like the Doc." Sawyer sighed.

"I'm thinking they hit your head pretty hard, kid. Can you get up?"

"They can't do this to me," Sawyer said; he tried to sound passionate and angry, threatening, but it came out like a whisper, like his voice was still hiding somewhere. "It ain't…"

Christian regarded him with what was almost compassion, "I know, James. I'd help you if I could."

"Not much else ya' can do, Scotch," Sawyer lowered his head to his knees, just because the light hurt his eyes, rubbed the back of his skull, "if ya' hadn't come along when ya' did I'd be workin' for that asshole instead, an' this'd be daily routine."

"That's probably true. C'mon now, let's get you out of here."

"'Sides…it's my own damn fault."

"Just don't worry about it right now, James."

Sawyer thought back on his beating for a moment, trying to find a good reason for what Hudson had just done to him, but he couldn't think of one. It seemed like it had been violence just for violence sake. "Still…can't believe ya' let 'im do this ta' me."

"Believe me, James, I had no idea what they were going to do to you."

"Yeah, well, ya' don't trust 'im right? So why'd ya' send me over here?"

"Whether I trust him or not, Hudson is still my superior. Loveless contacted him, and there was nothing I could do about it. You're just lucky I convinced him to let me handle it."

Sawyer didn't feel lucky. Not at all. He felt like he was royally screwed for something he didn't even understand.

"I'm taking you home now," Christian announced, taking his arm and jerking him to his feet. His voice sounded far away, and Sawyer nearly fell over. "You rest for a few days."

"What about the case, Hutch?"

"We'll give Jack and Kate a few days to relax. It wouldn't be good for them to suspect anything."

"Right. 'Course."

"Then we'll get back on it."

_One more time…if I screw up one more time it's a new asshole for me and a life sentence…_

**Sad news: starting this weekend I'm on spring break, so I won't be posting a chapter next week. ******** Sorry. BUT that's why this week I wrote a particularly long chapter for you guys to mull over. Hope you enjoyed it, and after next week everything should pretty much get back on track.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Suta 17**

**P.S: Forgive any grammatical errors. I didn't get a chance to edit.**


	6. Chapter 6

_The bars were thick, dark iron, cold to his hands as he grasped them, desperately trying to see through, searching for any sign of light in the darkness beyond the cell. He could hear the wailing of other men: tortured, hopeless bastards who were going to die soon. But that wasn't how it was for him._

_No, he could only wait and hope for the sweet release of death, because from now until the end of time, this room, this tiny ten by eight foot room with a latrine that reeked of piss and a cot that was lumpy, the lightless space, the dingy corners…this was his home. He'd always be here. Forget Kate, forget Jack and everyone else. He'd never see anyone ever again._

_A booming thunder of laughter broke over the wailing and gnashing of teeth; it was loud and cruel, reveling in the pain, savoring every moment of agony and sorrow._

_Hudson._

"James."

The voice startled him and he jumped, rolled over with a moan to see Christian Shephard kneeling beside his bed.

Sawyer sighed, "Whad'ya doin' here, boss?"

"Rise and shine, kid, it's been two days. Time to be get back on the case."

"Oh right. The case." He flopped back on the pillow. "How could I forget?"

"It's no secret that you're a somewhat careless individual."

He was right about that. Sawyer touched his face. It felt sort of swollen and bruised, but it probably wasn't nearly as bad as it had been two days ago. The taste of blood was still strong in his mouth; it seemed like no matter what he ate or drank it was always prominent.

"What time is it?"

"Early. No more time for idle chatter, now, get up, get dressed, and meet Loveless and I down in the lobby in fifteen minutes." Christian got up and turned for the door.

"Lovie." Sawyer snorted. He didn't feel like seeing Nicholas Loveless ever again.

"You'll be working with him until further notice, so you'd better lose that attitude. Fifteen minutes, James."

The door shut quietly and Sawyer sighed again. The two days off had been nice. Or they would have been, if his face hadn't felt like it was about to fall off the whole time. No more time to rest though; he had to get up and go downstairs in fifteen minutes or else face more consequences. There was no way out of it so he may as well get started.

Sawyer went in to take a quick shower, caught a glimpse of his bruised face as he passed the mirror and grimaced. He picked some relatively casual clothes that wouldn't draw attention to him, picked up his sunglasses and wallet off the living room coffee table and headed for the door.

Christian and Loveless were down in the lobby as promised, standing off to the side, nonchalantly. Christian had on a white dress shirt and some black slacks, but Loveless was wearing a full-blown monkey suit, and his sunglasses were in place. He averted his eyes when Sawyer came down the stairs.

Christian smiled, "Good morning, James; I'm glad to see you're on time."

"Ya' know I wouldn't dream of bein' late for my first day back on the job, Hutch. So what's th' plan for th' day?"  
Before speaking, Christian looked around the room, making sure they were the only ones there, and even then he spoke in code. Sawyer, you and Nick are going to go visit some friends today."

"Doctor Shephard and his wife?" Sawyer asked casually.

"That's right. Now, I realized the doctor doesn't have work today or tomorrow; as long as they're together, you two are together. Got it?"

"Ah, sir," Loveless raised his hand a little, "doesn't Austen-I mean, er, _Mrs._ Shephard have to drop little Aaron off at daycare?"

"Not on a day off, but if she _does_ happen to take him, you'll go with her, won't you, Nick? And Sawyer will stay and keep Doctor Shephard company while you're gone."

"My pleasure." Sawyer muttered. Following Jack around all day was not his idea of a fun time.

"Great. You guys know how to get there, don't you?"

"I have it written down." Loveless assured.

"Then go ahead and get going. I'll drop by myself later tonight to say hello."

"Well won't that be fun."

Christian glared a little at Sawyer, but the con man ignored it, "See ya' later boss." Then he led the way out of the apartment building and walked toward his car. "Well, Lovie, should we take separate cars?"

"No."

"No? What if _Mrs._ Shephard has ta' take Little Aaron ta' daycare? How ya' gonna' go with her if we only have one car?"

"I'll explain on the way over." Loveless got in the passenger's side, and Sawyer climbed in too. Not long after, they were on their way.

For the first ten minutes of the ride, Loveless busied himself looking in the dash and behind the seat, checking every nook of the car he could get his finger into.

At first Sawyer ignored it, but after a while he snapped, "What th' hell ya' doing? Sit still."

"Checking for bugs."

"My car ain't bugged. Now what about the two car issue. Said ya'd explain it, so get on it."

Finally Loveless sat still, said simply, "So, I guess Christian bought the house across the street from Dr. Shephard. He says we're free to use his car."

Sawyer thought about that a moment. That was pretty elaborate, buying a house just so the two of them would have a headquarters and a back up vehicle for their observation. Not a bad idea though.

Loveless took out a crumpled piece of paper, "By the way, the address is-"

"Ya' think I'm an idiot, Love? I followed Jack around with Rosa all last week—I know where he lives."

"Right. Sorry." Loveless turned a vague shade of pink and stuffed the paper back into his pocket.

"Shit. How'd I get stuck with the green horn anyway? Just what was Shephard thinking, stickin' me with the rookie?"

"I guess we're short on men. He and Muff have something else they're working on."

"Boy, wouldn't I love ta' know what that is."

For a few more minutes, they drove in silence, and then Loveless dared to ask, "Sir?"

"Yeah, what?"

"You…you know Austen, don't you?"

Sawyer's heart froze up a little at hearing those words. How had he figured it out? Was it that obvious or was Loveless just a lot smarter than he seemed? Maybe _this _was why Shephard had put them together. He never would have paired the rookie with a man as unreliable as Sawyer unless he had to. But if Loveless was the only agent other than Muff who knew the truth that meant he would be the perfect candidate to work with him.

Loveless obviously took the silence as a bad sign, "I'm-I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to bring that up so casually. I mean, I don't know what she was to you or is to you or anything, it's just that the other day, when we were talking about her, you had that look on your face, and then you broke the rules to bring her a donut…it just didn't make sense to me, so I-"

"Shaddup, Loveless." Sawyer pushed his sunglasses on and kept driving.

"Yes. Sorry, Sir." Loveless hung his head a little.

Noisey kid. How someone like Nicholas Loveless had gotten into the CIA was beyond Sawyer, but it wasn't his place to question.

Jack felt unrealistically tired as he sat down to breakfast. The house was peaceful and the neighborhood was quiet, the weather was nice, but he felt uneasy, and as he looked across the table at Kate, he saw that she was feeling the same way. It had been two days since the CIA had released them, and Jack hadn't heard from Christian or Sawyer, and he hadn't seen any sign of them or any other agents. He hoped that the whole episode was over, and at the same time, he was worried about Sawyer. He had resolved to not tell Kate about what Christian had said about Sawyer being punished because he didn't want her to worry, but he had told her some things, like how his father was really alive and how they weren't supposed to tell anyone-not even their closest friends-about the episode.

So far they'd done a pretty good job of that. Jack's mother had come around the day after they'd gotten home, acting worried and asking questions, but Jack had managed to dodge most of them and make up answers for the rest, and now she seemed satisfied. The whole thing was over, and she was excited for the wedding.

Jack wondered if Kate was still excited. She hadn't been herself for the last few days. That probably had to do with seeing Sawyer again. It didn't necessarily mean she still had feelings for the Con artist though, did it? He didn't want to believe that, not after how tightly she'd held onto him.

"Good morning." Kate said, trying to smile. It didn't look very convincing.

"Hey."

"You sleep all right?"

He nodded even though he hadn't really. He'd been too worried and too unsure to get any rest. There were so many questions he had, so many things that hadn't been answered. It was frustrating that Christian hadn't been able to tell him anything. Now he might never get those answers. And of course there was now the question of Sawyer. Was he okay? Was he alive? Just what exactly was the nature of his involvement with the CIA? Christian had said it was more complicated than just discharging him, but what did that mean exactly? How could Jack find the answers he needed?

"Jack?"  
He looked up at her again.

She was twisting her hair around one finger and biting her lips, and by all accounts looked nervous, "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Jack barely suppressed a sigh, and then took a sip of orange juice. "All right, what is it?"

"I-I don't want you to feel like this is coming out of the blue, because it's not. I've been thinking about it a lot for the last few days, and…and I think we should postpone the wedding."

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he couldn't help it. That was out of the blue. Maybe not for her, but it definitely was for him. Suddenly the orange juice didn't taste very good, and he got up to dump it down the sink, leaned against the counter for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

"This is about him. Isn't it?"

"No. It's not like that."

"Then what _is_ it like?"

"Jack, don't. I know that you're jealous of Sawyer, and you always have been, but it's not like every time I see him it reawakens feelings or something. I'm not leaving you. I just want to postpone the wedding."

"Why, Kate?"

"Because," she took a deep breath, "I'm not sure I'm ready."

He spun around. What did that mean? "You think you're not ready? A few nights ago you said-"

"I know what I said, but I think I was wrong."

None of this was making sense. Why would she suddenly feel like she wasn't ready? How could she say she was completely ready a few days ago, on the night of their engagement party, and then, less than a week before their wedding say that she didn't think she was ready? And yet she claimed it had nothing to do with Sawyer.

Jack could barely keep his anger under control. Why did it seem like every time he had Kate Sawyer came back to take her away? And now Sawyer was even spending every day with Jack's own father. Jack could help feeling like he was getting shafted.

"When are you going to pick between us, Kate?"

"Pick between you? I don't-"

"You know what I'm talking about! First it's me and then it's him, and then it's me again, and now it's him! I want to know when you're going to make up your mind and choose one of us!"  
"I already told you—this isn't about him, Jack."

"Then what _is_ it about? You told me you're ready!"

"Look, we both just had a really traumatic experience—Sawyer shot and killed that woman, and then we were held against our will all night. How can you blame me if I say I don't feel totally up to walking down the aisle?"

"The wedding is five days away, Kate, are you telling me you won't be ready in five days?"

"I don't know if I will be or not. But this isn't just about me, Jack," Kate brushed some hair aside and then got up as well. She folded her arms and walked over to the fridge like she was going to get something out, but then she just stood there, studying the pictures that were hanging on the door. "I…I'm worried about you, Jack. I don't know if you're ready either."

"No, believe me, Kate, I am."

"You think you are, but Jack," she turned to him, eyes earnest and compassionate, "you just found out that your father's alive when you went for the last five years thinking he was dead. On top of that, he's working for the CIA now, on a case that apparently involves you or me, or maybe even both of us."

"I don't see what that has to do with getting married."

Kate shook her head, "It's a lot to take in, Jack. I just think that maybe you and I need to sort through some things before we get married. It's inconvenient, I know, but I think it's for the best."

He studied her sternly, trying to decide if he really believed all that. "All right, so I'm supposed to figure out whether or not I can cope with my father coming back to life. What is it exactly that _you_ need to sort out?"

Kate seemed strangely hurt by the question, "Jack, don't you trust me?"

"I don't know, Kate, you have a bad habit of running between us."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you for him."

"I just wish I knew what you _are_ going to do."

"I'm not going to do anything."

"Don't lie to me, Kate!" Jack snapped. "When was the last time you were able to just do nothing? You can never just sit and do nothing and let other people handle it—you've always got to be involved!"

"And what's so wrong with that?"

"It's dangerous, that's what! I don't understand why you always have to get involved with these kinds of things!"  
"Jack-"

"Admit it, Kate, you still have feelings for him—you still love him!"

Kate's temper seemed to break at last, and she shouted, "I'm _worried_ about him, Jack!"

That stopped him. Why hadn't he thought of that? Why had he just jumped to the conclusion that she was going to run off with Sawyer?"

"He was in trouble when we left—I just want to know he's okay!"

Jack lowered his voice, "Why didn't you just say so?"

She glared, "I don't have to explain _everything_ to you."

"Yeah, but-"

"You don't trust me, do you?"  
"Kate, I do."

"No. You think I'm going to leave you, that I'm always lying to you. You don't trust me, and that's how I know that we aren't ready to get married yet." With that, she stormed out of the kitchen, hair swinging back and forth as she walked.

Jack tried to call her back, but to no avail. He sighed and sank down at the table again, feeling ashamed for getting on her case like that. It had been uncalled for.

Then again, he'd been under a lot of stress lately. It only made sense that he was a little cranky. What he needed was some exercise or something. Anything that could take his mind off all these problems.

After a few minutes, Jack got up to retrieve his work out gear. He'd go to the gym and burn a few hours, try to get things straight in his mind.

Hopefully Kate would still be here when he got home and they'd be able to talk.

Sawyer studied the house from down the street. It had been quiet all morning, not a sound in or out. It looked like the average, middle-class American home. Jack's brown bronco sat next to Kate's small, silver car like they belonged together. They really were living together, lying beside each other at night, holding one another, making love. It was enough to make him feel sick from jealousy. They were living a happy, fairy tale life and he was just trying to survive without getting shoved in some prison cell for the rest of his life. He rubbed his black eye again, remembering Hudson's cold, cruel voice.

"Uh, sir?"  
Irritated, Sawyer looked at Loveless, "What is it now? Don't tell me ya' gotta' take a piss again?"

Loveless' face flushed, "What? No sir, nothing like that."

"Then what is it, dammit?" He returned his attention to the house. Watching over Jack and Kate was a lot more important than listening to some damn kid.

"I-I just wanted to apologize."

"Oh, yeah? For what?"

"For what happened to you. I feel…like it was all my fault."

Sawyer didn't answer. He knew that what had happened was really his own fault, but if Loveless wanted to go on thinking it was because of him, he had no reason to stop him. He was a little resentful that the young agent had called Hudson, but that had been his own fault too.

"I didn't know what they were going to do to you—I was just doing my job."

"And if ya' _had_ known?"

"Sir?"  
"If ya' _had _known what Hudson was gonna' do would ya' still have called him?"

"No. Of course not. I would have called Agent Shephard…we all know he's in charge of this case…it's just that you told me Hudson-"

"Had ta' make ya' listen to me somehow."

Loveless didn't seem to know how to respond to that. He was quiet for a long time before murmuring, "Well…at any rate, sir-"  
"Quit callin' me sir."

"At any rate…I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, just forget about it, kid."

"I really had no idea what he was going to do to you."

"Got it. Right."

"But you do have to admit, it wasn't right for you to trick me like that."

"Nope. Guess not."

"I mean, you knew you had strict orders to stay away from Austen. I don't understand why you-"

"Nick," Sawyer spun around and faced Loveless, "one more word about it an' my fist goes in your eye and you're gonna' hafta' find yourself some replacement, secret agent glasses, got it?"

Loveless recoiled a little, but he was smiling slightly, "Right. Sorry."

"Whatever, just shut up."

Sawyer looked back at the house. There seemed to be some movement near the front door now. It looked like someone was getting into the coat closet. He lifted his binoculars and saw Jack pull out a blue gym bag.

"Your really a tough guy." Loveless commented.

"An' your really a chatterbox."

Jack went through the bag hurriedly, and then he turned around, walking right for the front door.

"I don't mean to talk a lot. I just-"

"Get outta' the car."

"What?"

"I said _get out of the car._"

"But why? Do I really talk _that_ much?"

"Look, Paulie, Shephard's about to leave the house, now I gotta' follow him and _you_ gotta' stick around an' watch Austen, so get the hell," he reached over and pushed the passenger door open, shoved Loveless out onto the sidewalk, "out of the car."

Loveless landed hard on the concrete, but regardless, he got up smoothly and walked into the cover of some bushes on the front lawn of the house Christian had bought for the operation. It was sort of a run down old place. The grass was too tall and the bushes were thick. Jack wouldn't see him if he was careful.

A split second later, Jack came out, dressed in a gray t-shirt and some athletic shorts. He unlocked his car and tossed the bag in the back seat. A moment later, he was tooling down the street.

Sawyer followed.

Jack went to the gym pretty often, so even if Sawyer got separated from him he'd know where to find him. But just for good measure, he stayed close-just a few cars behind-and stayed alert. For all he knew, the Doc had changed gyms or something.

As it turned out though, it was the same gym Jack had been going to for the last few weeks. He parked near the back of the parking lot so he had to walk a ways. Sawyer circled the lot once just to look like he belonged there. Then he parked a few rows away from Jack, got out, and followed. He wouldn't go into the gym, naturally. That would be foolish. Instead he'd go into the café next door and pick a good vantage point to watch from. A place where he'd be able to see Jack's car, but Jack wouldn't be able to see him.

It was all too easy.

It was a bright, crisp morning. Perfect for working out. Jack would spend a few hours here at the gym, then maybe grab some lunch at the café next door, then he'd go home to Kate and see if her moved had improved. If all went well, they should be able to talk all this out without getting into a big argument. They hadn't had an argument for a while, and it would be nice if this too could be resolved without violence.

Jack appreciated the walk up to the gym. It was good to feel the sun on his back and the breeze on his face. The place looked pretty empty for a Saturday. Normally there were a lot of people at the gym, but today it seemed like no one was there. He saw a black car with very darkly tinted windows circle around the lot then go and park not too far from his bronco. He heard the car door, but he didn't bother to see who was driving the car. It wasn't anyone he knew. He'd purposely picked a gym where he didn't know any of the members so he could work out rather than socialize.

There were soft footsteps behind him. At least he wouldn't be the only person in the gym. Even though he didn't necessarily want to socialize, it always felt awkward to be in the gym all alone.

Jack was just a few hundred yards from the door when he heard the screeching of tires, and the same black car drove up and stopped right in front of him, so close that he almost ran into it.

The window rolled down a little and Jack was staring at a face he knew very well.

"Get in!"

"What are you doing-"

"No time, Jack! Get in!"

"Sayid, I don't-"

"There's a man following you!"

Jack glanced over his shoulder; there was someone there, a man, but he couldn't make out much else about them. Still, with the strange things that had been going on lately, he wasn't sure he could afford to ignore Sayid's warning. He opened the rear, driver's side door, and got in.

Sayid slammed the accelerator, and before Jack was even strapped in, peeled out, and sped away.

**Hello again,**

**Sorry this took so long to get done. My brother came to visit me for the week and so I was entertaining him and couldn't get much writing done. Next week's chapter should be on time. Thanks for all your patience.**

**Suta-17**


	7. Chapter 7

"What is this about, Sayid?"

Sayid ignored Jack's demands and kept driving, keeping one eye on the road, and the other on the rearview mirror. So far, there was no definite sign that they were being followed by Jack's anonymous tail, but that didn't necessarily mean that they weren't either. The priority was to get Jack out of danger, and, if he got the chance, kill the man following him. The killing was extremely practiced by now, and it wouldn't be an issue.

"What are you doing here in LA?"

"Please, Jack, hold all questions until I can guarantee that we are some place safe."

Of course, it wasn't an explanation, but it was the best he could do for the time being, and if Jack still trusted him even a fraction of how he had on the island, it would be enough.

Fortunately, Jack was quiet for a while, and Sayid took a few random streets before turning down and alleyway and traveling the back roads a while. Then he pulled out into a small parking lot that was half-hidden from the main highway, and circled it once to park as close to the building as possible.

"This is your idea of some place safe?" Jack scanned the lot skeptically. It was empty aside from a few beat up old cars, the building and fencing were ill-maintained, and the surrounding areas seemed dark for mid-day.

"There's no time to lose," Sayid said, grabbing his gun from the glove compartment and putting it inside his coat, "please come with me inside."

Jack's face made it obvious that he was reluctant, but Sayid got out of the car; if Jack didn't follow, he'd have to make him.

Much to Sayid's relief, Jack got out of the car as well, regardless of his uncertainty, and followed his friend inside.

The interior of the club was dark and dingy with scratched, wood-paneled floors and a large bar lined with bottles and glasses of all shapes, sizes and varieties, but most of the room was choked by a large, square dance floor that was empty at the moment, and there was a group of booths and tables crowded in against the back wall. Even though no one was in the club then, the air smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat.

Sayid nodded to the bartender-a large, rough man who was cleaning out glasses, who nodded back, and then led Jack across the room, shoes tapping on the dance floor as they crossed it. He selected a booth close to the back door and sat down so that he was positioned in a way that would allow him to see anyone who came into the bar. He gestured for Jack to sit as well.

The doctor hesitated a second, glanced around the apparently vacant club, and sat down heavily, seeming to sink into the vinyl seat of the booth.

For just a second, they were silent, and then Sayid smiled, "It's nice to see you, Jack."

Jack nodded, but said, "I wish I could say the same."

"I understand that at the moment you are confused, but I hope that I can clear some things up for you."

"Why don't you start with who the man following me was?"

"I would love to be able to tell you that, Jack; unfortunately, I do not have that information myself."

"Then how do you know he was following me?"

The bartender interrupted, suddenly appearing beside the table and setting down a smooth, foreign lager that he knew Sayid liked, and then he walked away, not pausing to exchange any formalities with the former torturer.

"I was on my way to visit you, but you were already pulling out. It was my intention to wait for you to return, but I noticed a black car go after you, and so I pursued." Sayid took a sip from his glass and let the burning sensation in his throat soothe him momentarily, "I did not get a clear look at his face, because the windows of his car are tinted, but I know enough to realize that he is likely a threat to you, and to Kate."

Jack was visibly bothered by that statement, "Kate? Will she be all right? Maybe I should call her."

"I believe she will be all right for now. After all, if she had been the target why would the man have bothered to follow you?"

Jack just stared at him.

"Haven't you noticed anyone tailing you lately?"

"No. I don't always pay attention to that, but I think I would have realized…"

"Perhaps not. The man following you was very good at it. He stayed several cars behind you while you were on the main road, and was careful to circle the parking lot several times before actually selecting a spot. This information tells me that he must be a professional, and in that case, I think it's safe to assume that he's part of the CIA."

As expected, Jack immediately looked interested. "The CIA? Why would you think the CIA is following me?"

"Because I believe they have been hired to locate you-as well as Kate and the rest of us-and perhaps even to kill you."

"Why would the CIA do that though? Who could have enough money and enough power to do that?"

"I did not say that the entire organization has been corrupted; in fact, it seems more likely that only a few, already greedy CIA agents have given in to the bribe. However, I have very limited information on the situation, so it's all merely speculation."

Jack seemed to think, "So you're saying someone has hired members of the CIA to find us-the Oceanic Seven-and kill us, and you have no idea which agents are and aren't corrupted."

"That's it exactly." Sayid felt that he should have been pleased to get the point across so quickly, but he only felt grave, and his eyes lingered on the door.

"But who would do that?"

Sayid wanted to avoid the subject, even though he knew there was no point—he'd have to explain what he knew sooner or later. "Forgive me for being rude, Jack: I didn't ask if you'd like something to drink."

Jack shook his head immediately, those lines of frustration etching on his brow, "No thanks. It's too early."

"Ah. Of course it is." Sayid took another mouthful of lager and stared at the door, half-expecting it to swing open at any moment. If Jack's unknown enemy were to come in, Sayid felt confident that he could have him gunned down in a matter of instants.

"Sayid," Jack spoke a little loudly, commanding Sayid's attention immediately. Even after all these years, for some reason he couldn't stop thinking of Jack as his leader, a man to be followed and trusted. "who would hire CIA agents to find the seven of us? It doesn't make sense."

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I don't know that exactly."

"You must know something though, otherwise why would you just drop by LA to visit?"

With a sigh, Sayid stared down into his drink. He didn't like having to be in charge of all this, but there was nothing he could do now. He'd agreed to do this, because he had to make sure nothing happened to his friends. "As I've already said, I don't have proof for anything, but there is a very good chance that Charles Widmore is behind it."

He felt Jack's heavy stare on him, even though he wasn't looking up. "Widmore? Charles Widmore? But…how? How could he bribe CIA agents to kill us?"

"It would take a very large sum of money, and if there is one thing I know about Charles Widmore," Sayid sneered, and suddenly the lager tasted sour to him, so he pushed it away, "is that he has a revoltingly large collection of funds, and he uses those funds to finance any project that amuses him, whether it be hunting for an island that is invisible to most of the world, or hiring an organization like the CIA to kill seven individuals for an unexplained reason. Jack," Sayid leaned forward, "by all accounts, Charles Widmore is a cruel, unfeeling man, who will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

Jack gazed back at him for a moment, but as was usual with Jack, it was difficult to determine whether he was believing or doubting. At last the doctor said, "You aren't positive that any of this is true though, are you?"

Sayid sighed, "No, but I do have a good reason to believe it."

"What reasons might those be?"

After thinking a moment, Sayid got out his wallet and produced a small photograph of a beautiful Iraqi woman with long, brown hair and the most mesmerizing eyes he'd ever seen.

Jack leaned over to inspect the photo, but didn't touch it, "I recognize her. She was with you at the party Hurley's parents threw when we first got back from the island."

"Yes. She was my wife. Nadia."

"Where is she now? And what does it have to do with Charles Widmore?" Jack pushed the photograph back toward Sayid, but it was gentle and careful, with the very tips of his fingers.

Sayid picked the portrait up like he was handling a dried leaf, "Ten months after we returned home from the island, my wife, Nadia, was run down by a car while out shopping. The impact killed her immediately."

"I'm sorry." Jack lowered his eyes.

It had been so long ago now, since Nadia had died, it felt far away, like some part of his heart had fallen asleep. But he nodded. Then continued. "At first, I believed the death to be an accident-granted, I was resentful toward whoever had killed her, because they didn't even have the decency to stop-and I never once suspected murder. Until…"

"Until?"

Sayid thought momentarily about the horrific moment he'd seen Benjamin Linus, and the awful claims he'd made still rang in his ears. "I was presented with some evidence that proved she was killed. And what's more, it was proven to me that the man responsible for her murder was in fact Charles Widmore."

Jack stared at him blankly, his eyebrows knitting together, but it was clear he didn't understand the significance.

"Don't you see? He killed my wife to get to me, and he had every intention of either capturing me and questioning me about the island, or killing me as well. To me, that suggests that he will stop at nothing to get to the rest of you. Exploitation, bribery, even murder, they are all just words to him," Sayid was starting to feel angry, "He cares nothing for life, and nothing is sacred to him. He is a man without morals or values."

With a sigh, Jack looked away, staring across the room at the bar for a long time, and Sayid didn't interrupt him. As much as he wanted Jack to believe him, he knew that he couldn't force him to. There was no choice but to wait and see what the doctor would decide on his own. At last, Jack said, "Sayid, that was five years go. If Widmore were really behind Nadia's death, and if he really were trying to kill all of us, why hasn't anything happened since then?"

"It's simple. I've been protecting you."

Jack's skeptical look was priceless, and Sayid might have laughed if he hadn't forgotten how to long ago. "You've been protecting us? All six of us?"

"Admittedly, I haven't been able to keep an eye on all six of you at all times, but then, there hasn't always been a need to. You and Kate are together so often, it's more like protecting one person than two, and because Aaron is between you there are only three left who might genuinely need my protection. Sun is in Korea with her family, but I've been able to check on her frequently, thanks to the Golden Pass we were awarded. I also had my eyes on Hurley for a while, but once he was institutionalized I determined that there was no need." He hesitated a moment before admitting, "Unfortunately, I lost track of Sawyer a long time ago, and I have no idea where he is now."

Jack sat back, nodding, and folded his arms, suddenly seeming closed off, "I'm sure he's fine. But even then, it's a big job, Sayid, protecting so many people from someone who's supposedly powerful enough to fake a plane crash."

"I'm not alone."

"You have someone helping you?"

Sayid nodded, "I'm not at liberty to tell you my benefactor's name at the moment," he tried to keep the hardness out of his voice, "but he provides me with information on a regular basis."

He watched the doctor mull that around. Jack didn't seem to have anything to say for once, although it went without saying that he would want to know more details concerning who was helping Sayid. No matter what questions he asked though, or how probing they were, Sayid would not reveal that information. Not yet.

"Even with the help of this _benefactor…_you're not seriously thinking you can figure out who in the CIA is legit and who's not. Right? You have no idea who I can and can't trust?"

The question seemed strange for some reason. Apparently Jack had personal reasons for asking, but there was no point in pursuing those. Sayid had to stick to the point, "That's true. I have no idea which members of the CIA are safe to trust, and so, for the moment anyway, I think it would be wise to mistrust them all. If anyone approaches you, claiming to be a CIA agent, be extremely careful Jack. Some of them are on our side, but far too many of them are plotting against us, and because we have no way at this time of determining which are which, it's best to simply consider all of them the enemy, regardless of who they are or what they claim to be doing."

Jack nodded, and his eyes drifted up over Sayid's shoulder toward the middle of the room again. The information seemed to bother him. "All of them."

Sawyer watched the black sudan peel out in disbelief. By the time he fully realized that the car was gone, with Jack in the back of it, it was out of sight. "Dammit!"

He turned and ran back to his car, cursing and fumbling with his cell phone, "Shit, shit shit!" He misdialed the number twice before finally getting it, almost dropped his car keys as he tried to get in. It seemed like the phone rang over and over, and he was afraid it wouldn't be answered at all, and then, finally, Loveless spoke, "Yes?"

"Loveless, dammit, where are ya'?"

There was a brief pause, and the young agent sounded mystified, "You left me outside the Shephard's house, remember?"

"I know _that_." Sawyer snarled. "Where are ya' now though?"

"Inside the house. It sure is a big place—can't imagine how much it cost."

"No time for that. Are ya' near a window? Are ya' watching Austen?" God forbid something should happen to her _too_.

"Yes sir. I'm watching the house; there hasn't been any activity there since you left."

Good. Kate was safe so far.

Sawyer jammed the keys into the ignition but didn't start the car. "Listen, Jac-I mean, Shephard was just kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Loveless squawked, losing his cool demeanor at once. "How? I thought you were tailing him."

"I was! He was walkin' up ta' the gym-Mr. Perfect Picture of Health-when this car stops right in front of him, drives away with him, simple as that."

"All right. Well. Okay, okay, listen. Just don't panic. We'll find him. I'll get in the other car and meet you and together we'll-"

_"You're_ the one panickin', Love. Ya' gotta' stay there an' take care o' Austen—I'll look for Shephard. I was just touchin' base ta' let ya' know what happened."

Loveless was quiet a while.

_How did this kid ever get into th' CIA?_

"How are you going to find him?" he asked at last. "Do you want me to contact Agent Shephard? I'm sure he could send more-"

"No need. I bugged Shephard's gym bag last week, so I should be able to find it with our portable tracking device—if th' jackass ain't found it and taken it out."

"All right. Then…you don't want me to report this, right?"

"Just do your job, Loveless." Sawyer snorted and hung up without so much as a good bye. Then he leaned over to get the tracking device out of the glovebox, which was now a huge mess of krinkled papers and extra knapkins. "Sonnova bitch! What the hell happened?"

He remembered in passing, as he searched through the debris, that Loveless had all but torn the car apart looking for bugs earlier, and by the time he found the device jammed between the passenger seat and the emergency brake console, he was worried that there wouldn't be time to find and save Jack.

In spite of that fear though, the device showed that Jack was just five miles away, sitting stationary. Or his bag was anyway. For all Sawyer knew, the athletic luggage had been tossed out on the high way.

Never-the-less, the only thing there was to do was to go and investigate, so he started the car and buckled his seatbelt, and started driving in the direction the little, yellow arrow pointed to. He kept his attention balanced between the device and the road, but he was annoyed at the design, wishing that whoever had invented the thing would have thought to make it attachable to the sun visor or something.

When he was within half a mile of Jack's gym bag, Sawyer encountered a new problem: there seemed to be a large, brick building blocking the direct path between his car and the bug in Jack's duffle bag, and he wound up having to circle half-way around the block before he found a shady looking alley that might lead him to where he needed to go.

The parking lot he got spat out in looked just as shady, and he felt a twinge of fear-not for himself, since he was armed-but for Jack. Who would have brought the Doc here, and what in the world for?

But if the black car near the entrance to the building was any indication, then at least he knew Jack was here. Now it was just a matter of finding him and saving him.

That thought in mind, Sawyer got out his gun and made sure it was loaded and ready to fire, then he stuffed the tracking device in his pocket, and was just about to get out when another car pulled into the lot. This one was white, and sort of stretched like a small limo, but the men who got out were rugged and large, wearing dark glasses and suits.

_Agents of some kind. What th' hell're they doing here? Loveless didn't actually order backup, did he?_

No way. The kid wasn't that stupid. Right?

So far, the only people who knew anything about this incident were himself, Loveless, and whoever had done the kidnapping, obviously; so that meant, assuming Loveless hadn't sent for backup, the men getting out of the car had to be enemies.

There were five of them, heading toward the front door of the brick building, and Sawyer noticed right away that they were all carrying guns.

_Just great._

As he got out and started to sneak across the parking lot, he thought that maybe he should have had Loveless call for backup after all.

It didn't seem like they'd been there very long when Sayid suddenly stood up and said, "Let's go."

Jack looked up, startled. This had all been so sudden—what was going on anyway? First Sawyer was a CIA agent, and now Sayid was running around like a vigil ante, sponsored by a faceless benefactor. "But we just got here."

"Yes. There's no more need for us to remain here though."

"Why did you bring me here in the first place?" Nothing had happened. No one had met with them, Sayid hadn't made any phone calls or done anything to confirm to someone that he'd saved Jack from a stalker. It was just like a normal, very underground club, getting ready to open for later in the day.

"Someone was following you—I came here to hide and to make sure whoever he was wouldn't try to follow us. Because we've been here this long and he's not yet arrived, I'm assuming he was unable to find us."

Jack started to get up. What a weird day this was turning out to be. Forget the gym, he was just going to go back to bed when he got home. If Sayid _let_ him go home.

"However, I'd prefer it if you'd stay behind me as we leave the building—just because your friend has not attempted to follow us inside doesn't necessarily mean that he's gone."  
He was right. This could go on for weeks. Who knew how long this guy had been following him, or when he'd stop. Or if he'd stop at all.

Jack followed close behind Sayid. He felt ridiculous. Sayid was wearing all black, like an assassin, and carrying a weapon under his jacket. He was wearing a sweaty t-shirt and some athletic shorts.

With another nod to the bartender, Sayid led the way out of the building, and as they made their way toward the door, he kept looking back and forth, like he thought he'd see someone dangerous at any moment.

Finally, they stepped back out into the fresh air. The sun was hidden behind some clouds, and in the shadow of the building, it seemed dark and eerie, and Jack felt small. Insignificant even. All around him were the cries of the city—cars and trains and sirens, all proclaiming their meaningless existence, reminding him that they were still there, ignoring him as he went by. It was a hopeless feeling.

Having fights with Kate always made him feel a little existential, and he was all the more determined to go home and make it all up to her. Maybe he had flown off the handle. It probably wasn't very smart to get married right now.

Sayid stopped at the curb, drawing Jack out of his thoughts, and turned suddenly to the left. "Get down!" He shouted, whipping the gun out of his jacket and firing off a shot.

Jack was so startled, he didn't quite understand the command or what it meant. He just saw a group of men rushing straight at him, guns drawn down, faces expressionless and passive. They were aiming forward, but he couldn't tell if they meant to shoot him or his friend.

There was a blur of noise and violent images that seemed strangely familiar to him—gunfire, bullets hissing past his head, people shouting and screaming. He saw a splatter of red blood hit the sidewalk, but didn't see where it came from. One of the men rushing on them fell back with a shout of pain.

Still, that left four of them, and even though Jack didn't know what kind of gun Sayid was carrying, he worried there wouldn't be enough bullets to go along.

It didn't help to see Sayid's left arm hanging uselessly by his side, crimson liquid trickling from his fingers.

The Iraqi looked back at Jack, screaming a second time, "Get down!"

A bullet ricocheted off the brick wall behind him, and Jack hit the dirt, skinning both knees, as he tried to make himself a smaller target. As if he hadn't felt humiliated before—he wished he had a gun right then too, because then he wouldn't have to sit by and let his injured friend protect him like he was a child.

A second slug ripped through Sayid, this time right at his collar bone, and there was a fine mist of red that polluted the air temporarily. The ex-torturer stumbled back, seemingly stunned, but he kept his footing and fired again.

"Sayid!" There was nothing he could do—no way to save Sayid now. And who knew what that meant for him, or for Kate and Aaron.

One of the attackers grinned as he came forward, aiming carefully, right at Sayid's head. There was no time for the Iraqi to duck or return fire. Jack could see it right then: Sayid was going to die.

Screaming, Jack jumped to his feet and charged forward, desperately trying to get to Sayid before the bullet spattered his brains everywhere.

A shot rang out, and Jack felt his heart collapsing. _No…no…Sayid…it can't be…_

He paused in mid run and stared. Sayid wasn't falling—he was just standing there, fine. His head hadn't exploded, his skull hadn't fragmented. There wasn't so much as a bullet hole piercing his forehead.

Instead, the gunman who'd been aiming for him was falling straight down, like someone had dropped a pencil, blood gushing from his mouth, sunglasses falling off.

Once his tall, muscular frame was out of the way, Jack saw a smaller man rushing into the fray from further back, hair blazing gold in the sunlight. He had a gun as well, the muzzle flashing brilliant bursts of yellow as bullet after bullet was fired.

Two more men dropped between Sawyer and Sayid's shots, and then all five men were on the ground, probably dead. Jack resisted the urge to start going around checking pulses.

Instead, he ran to Sayid's side to help him, putting his arm around his waist to support him.

Gripping his injured shoulder, Sayid jerked away and looked a little wildly at Sawyer, "What are you doing here?"

Sawyer lowered his gun; Jack didn't like the flinty look in his blue eyes. "Came ta' help."

"How did you know where we were?" Jack demanded. He couldn't help remembering what Sayid had said about not trusting CIA agents, and now it was conflicting with everything he'd been thinking since his last encounter with Sawyer. Sawyer said he wasn't an agent, but…could he be trusted.

_Why not? I've trusted him before._

"Don't matter. We gotta' get outta' here before the police show up. I'll call and have somebody come ta' clean this mess up, but we need ta' beat it. Back to your place, Jack. Is there anyone inside?"

Sayid gave a vague moan, then spoke before Jack could, "No. No one. I'm surprised to see you, Sawyer. I thought you were overseas.  
For a second, the two of them looked at each other, and Jack caught a glimpse of a whirlwind of emotions, none of them good. He felt tension bursting out of both of them, but he had no idea what it stemmed from. Did they not trust each other? Maybe Sayid already knew about Sawyer. Jack felt at a loss—he had no idea who to trust now. He had wasted a few seconds hoping that now that he and Sayid and Sawyer were all together they'd be able to sit down and answer each other's questions, but if the two of them didn't trust each other it didn't seem possible.

"I've been around." Sawyer shrugged.

"We've got to get Sayid to a hospital," Jack announced, looking at the bullet-torn shoulder. "This is pretty bad."

"There's no time." Sayid objected.

"But Sayid-"

"The Doc's right, Ali: what'dya' think you're gonna' do when you're like this?"

"I must avoid an encounter with the police, or any other similar organizations at any cost." Sayid explained a little coldly, and then looked at Jack, "I'm sorry I can't answer any more of your questions. I wish I could take you with me, but for now, the best thing you can do is go back home and keep an eye open."

That was terrible advice. Jack didn't want to go sit at home now. He wanted answers. He wanted to shake someone-Sayid, Sawyer, Christian, _anyone_-until he knew the truth. Besides, the instructions seemed shallow, like Sayid didn't really want him to do that but knew that he had to.

"But what about you, Sayid? You're hurt."

"Never mind me; I have resources." Without so much as a pinched smile, Sayid suddenly spun away and began to walk, saying to Sawyer, "If you intend to hide this, I suggest you hurry. There could be problems if the police arrive."

Before either of them could reply, Sayid was back in his car and driving away.

Jack felt the protest wither in his throat as he watched the black car disappear down the alley.

Sawyer sighed after a long, quiet moment, "Well…there goes your workout gear."

Guys, I am so, so sorry that this is so, so late! My new school schedule is pretty demanding, and I've been busy with other things. Forgive me?



-S17


	8. Chapter 8

His voice was sharp, "Where _is_ Shephard, Sayid? You were supposed to bring him back here."

"I'm afraid we were interrupted."

"Interrupted? By who?"

"Someone was tailing Jack; I had to take him somewhere safe to talk, and then we were attacked before we could leave."

"CIA agents?"

"I believe so."

"Did they kill him?" Something about the hungry, eager way he asked made Sayid shiver.

"No. Sawyer came—I had to let Jack go with him."

"Sawyer? Did he say anything to you?"

"If you're asking whether or not I was able to confirm him as an agent or not, no. Unfortunately he said very little to me." Sayid hesitated, shifting and trying to rearrange his shoulder so it was more comfortable.

"Why in the world did you let Jack go with him?"

"Because I believe we can trust him."

"No, Sayid. You're wrong. Sawyer is working for Christian Shephard, and possibly for Widmore himself. Like it or not, he cannot be trusted."

"What was I supposed to do?" Sayid demanded. "If I hadn't let Jack go with Sawyer it would have only caused more problems!"

"I suppose you're right. There wasn't anything you could do."  
Sayid hesitated, winced as he sat down in a nearby chair. The room was so dingy and dark, it made him feel like a hunted animal. Not being able to trust his own friends was taking a toll on him, but he knew that he had no choice. Not if he wanted to protect them. "Do you really believe Sawyer could be working for Widmore."

"He may or may not realize it, but yes."

"In that case, I'll go to Jack, first thing tomorrow, and-"

"I'm sorry, Sayid, that plan is no longer going to work. If Sawyer has already gotten to Jack there's simply no point in trying to convince him to join us. I'm afraid we need to come up with a new plan."

"What do you suggest?"

Taking a thread and needle out of a nearby first aid kit, Ben smiled at Sayid, "Right now I think it best if I have a conversation with James. He could be useful." He slipped his glasses on, "This is going to sting."

"Why don't you trust Sayid?"

"What do you mean why don't I trust Sayid? I do."

Jack wanted to believe that and drop it, but he couldn't. "Don't lie to me, Sawyer."

"I ain't lyin', Jack. What street do ya' want me to turn on?"

"Left. How did you just happen to show up today, just in the nick of time?"

"Jus' lucky like that, I guess."

"Sayid said someone's been tailing me—was that you?"

"I ain't been tailin' ya'." Sawyer growled. He sounded defensive.

Jack looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Sawyer looked like someone had roughed him a up a little. The corner of his mouth was swollen. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, Jack could see that at least one of his eyes was black. Old wounds from a fistfight? He glanced at Sawyer's knuckles as he turned down the next street. It didn't look like he'd been in a fight. Maybe he just knew how to throw a good punch.

"What're ya' starin' at?" Sawyer demanded.

"I'm wondering what happened to you."

"Nothin' happened." Sawyer turned onto Jack's street, and Jack noticed he didn't have to ask for directions. It was like he'd been there a thousand times.

"If nothing happened why is your eye black? Did my father hit you?"

Sawyer muttered something under his breath, then he snorted, "No. Why? Your daddy th' hittin' type?"

"He's never hit me."

"Yeah, well, he didn't hit me neither."

"Then who did?"

Sawyer snapped, "It ain't none of your business, Jack. Now which house is yours?"

Jack sighed. He didn't like having his efforts to act concerned being rebuffed, but clearly Sawyer had no intention of telling him anything. "It's right over there. On your left." Jack glanced to the right and noticed that there was a car in the drive way across the street. "Weird."

Sawyer noticed the direction he was looking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It just looks like I've got some new neighbors. I didn't notice any moving vans though."

Sawyer glanced that way for a second and seemed to frown, "Hope they ain't noisy." He pulled up to Jack's house, "There ya' are, Chief. Tell the Mrs. I said hello."

"She's not the Mrs. yet." Jack didn't get out of the car. He was determined not to until he had some answers.

"Right. Well, good bye, Jack."

Jack just looked at him for a second, "What happened after we left?"

"What're ya' talkin' about?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Sawyer. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

Sawyer's eyes narrowed, "'Fraid I don't."

"You weren't supposed to be in that room with Kate—my father acted like it was a serious problem. Are you telling me you didn't get in trouble?"

"Oh, that. Naw. It was nothin'. They just…gave me a warnin'."

"A warning?" Jack didn't believe that for a second, and he was becoming more and more convinced that the bruises on Sawyer's face were the result of whatever punishment the CIA had given him.

"That's right. Told me not ta' do it again. This your house or not, Doc?"

"I have questions, and I think I deserve to know the answers."

Sawyer sighed, "Look, Doc-"

"You said you're not working for the CIA, just with them. What does that mean? Who _are_ you working for?"

"I ain't workin' for no one."

"Are you conning someone?"

"Ain't connin' no one either. You gettin' out or ya' comin' home with me?"

He really wanted Jack out of the car. Obviously he didn't want him asking questions—that told Jack he was on the right track. "Then _what_ are you _doing_, Sawyer?"

"I told ya' already, Doc; I'm workin' _with_ the CIA. They made me a nice deal—lotta' money."

"What's that have to do with me and Kate?"

"Nothin'. Ya' were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like today."

"I don't believe you." Jack snapped. He was losing patience. "There's no way running into twice while you were on duty was just a coincidence."

"Ya' don't hafta' believe me, Jack—that's all it was! What, ya' think I'm followin' ya? What would I need to follow _you_ for? My job's got nothin' ta' do with you."

Jack pondered that a moment, let his thought's drift back to what little information Sayid had supplied him with, "Are you working for Charles Widmore?"

Sawyer's eyebrow quirked, "What the hell would-"

"Are you working for Widmore or not?"

"No, Doc, I ain't workin' for Widmore. I got nothin' ta' do with that bastard. All right, Look, I was checkin' up on ya' today, but it ain't what ya' think. You an' Kate saw me shoot Rosa, that means you're automatically involved in my case. I just came by ta' make sure no one's been givin' ya' trouble. And, by the way, If I hadn't come alone when I did, Sayid would probably be dead, an' who knows where _you'd_ be. Ya' owe me a thank-you. There. That's the story. Happy?"

The story wasn't satisfying: there were too many holes in it, and besides, Sawyer was such a good liar, Jack knew that he could tell him just about anything and it would sound like the truth. He really might have been working for Widmore. There was no way to know for sure. Regardless, he nodded.

"Great. Now get the hell outta' my car."

Jack sighed and reached for the door handle, but then hesitated, "I just have one last question, Sawyer. I'd appreciate a little honesty on this one."

"Fine." Sawyer sighed, "what is it?"

"I'm not the idiot you think I am—I have decent sense for when someone's lying to me."

"Good for you. But that ain't a question."

Jack looked sincerely at Sawyer, "I'm asking this as a friend…" He paused, trying to find a subtle way to word the question, but there was really only one way to put it, "Are you okay?"

Sawyer looked genuinely startled-just for a second though-and then he covered it with that huge well of Bravado, "What kinda' question is that? Ya' know, we've been off the Island a long time—you ain't my doctor no more."

"Whether or not you're going to admit it, someone beat you black and blue, and from the look of it, it was about two or three days ago. You don't have to tell me who or why or anything. I just want to know if you're okay."

"An' what if I ain't?" Sawyer demanded, a little anger starting to flare up in his voice, "What are _you_ gonna' do about it, Jack? Stick a band-aid on it, like ev'rything else?"  
"I want to help you, if-"

"Thanks for the thought, Doc, but I'm fine. Ev'rything's peachy." He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open, "Now get out an' quit worryin' over nothin'."

Jack got out, feeling a little indignant—how like Sawyer to turn obnoxious the moment someone thought about caring about him. "I don't waste my time worrying about you; but Kate still does."

Sawyer looked at him, expression not changing.

"I thought it would be nice if I could tell her you're okay."

Jack slammed the door and walked away from the car, feeling irritated. He still didn't know the first thing about what was going on. The appearance of Sayid hadn't helped with that, Sawyer was being uncooperative, and Kate, as far as he knew, was mad at him. He felt like he was up to his neck in secrets—again.

He strode inside, looking around for his fiancée. At least he could make it up to her, and then one thing would be going the right direction, "Kate?"

"In the living room."

Jack hung his car keys up on the wall where they belonged. Later he'd have to have Kate drive him back to the gym to pick up the Bronco. He headed toward the living room, passing the kitchen where Aaron was sitting at the table, coloring. "Well, Kate, I've got a story to tell you. You're not going to believe who I saw."

She came around the corner, a little hurriedly, "Maybe you should tell me about it later, Honey."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's just that we have company."

"Company? Who-"

Christian Shephard came around the corner, all smiles, a glass in one hand. "Good morning, Jack. Sorry to drop in so unexpectedly."

Jack stared at him a second, and then looked at Kate. She just shrugged.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I just came by to say hello. We had to cancel breakfast the other day, so we couldn't discuss everything I wanted to talk about."

Jack wondered if that meant he was finally going to get all the answers to the questions he had.

"Miss Austen," Christian smiled perfectly at Kate, "would you mind excusing us for a while? Jack and I have a lot to talk about."

Reluctantly, Kate looked at Jack.

He nodded.

"Sure. I was going to take Aaron over to the park for a while anyway."

"That's perfect. I'll probably be gone by the time you get back—have a nice day."

He was so civil. It was so typical it made Jack feel like this whole thing was just a dream. He grabbed Kate's hand and squeezed it as she turned away, said softly, "Be careful, all right?"

"You too." She leaned up to kiss his mouth, then walked into the kitchen. He heard her talking to Aaron.

Jack looked at Christian expectantly.

Smiling still, his father said, "Let's go sit in the living room, Jack."

With one last look over his shoulder, Jack followed Christian into the living room where he took a seat on the love seat, while Christian sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and sipping from his glass. They were both quiet until the front door closed and the house was quiet.

"She's a beautiful woman." Christian said casually. "Congratulations, son."

"Thank-you."

"It's nice to see you moving on. After what happened with Sarah I thought you'd never find anyone to be happy with ever again."

Jack hated talking about Sarah. Even thinking about Sarah was considerably painful; but he simply said, "Kate and I went through a lot together."

"Ah. That'll do it." Christian took another drink.

"What exactly are you here for, Dad?"

"Just what I said—to talk."

"Is there something specific you wanted to talk about?" Jack tried not to sound annoyed. It just seemed ridiculous that they were going through all this filler talk when there were so many important issues to be discussed.

"No. Not at the moment. Is there something you would like to address, Jack?"

There were so many things, but Jack knew that he had to try to be mindful of what he brought up. There were things that Christian definitely wouldn't talk about, questions wouldn't answer, and if he was going to get any information at all, he knew he had to go for things that weren't so secretive. He decided he might as well start with what was foremost on his mind. "What happened with Sawyer after you let us go?"

Christian frowned, like being reminded of Sawyer's misdeed distressed him, "That renegade. He's all right—of course, he had to accept the consequences of his actions, but that goes without saying. Why? You're not worried about him, are you?"

Jack shrugged, "Kate is."

"They have a history, don't they?" Christian grinned.

The words bothered him for some reason, but Jack tried not to let it show. After all, Kate was with him now. "Yeah. They do."

"That makes for an interesting love triangle."

"It's not a love triangle, exactly. Kate says she's over him."

"Well that's good." Christian smiled again.

Jack struggled of something to change the topic to. He hadn't meant to get into a discussion about the relationship between the three of them. As a test, he asked, "What do you pay him?"

"James? More than they pay you at the hospital. But his job is more dangerous."

"And what exactly is his job?"

"I'm afraid it's top secret at this point."

He'd dodged both questions in one form or another. Jack didn't know why, but he just couldn't get past the idea that Sawyer was working _with_ the CIA against his will. Even when he said he wasn't, even when he insisted it was for the money, even when Christian assured him that he was being handsomely paid for the position something just didn't feel right. Maybe it was the look on his face when Jack asked him if he was okay, or the way he'd stood up to Christian when they'd been trying to sedate Jack. Whatever it was, Jack got the idea that something was amiss.

Then again, a lot of things seemed off.

"If you have no further questions," Christian go off the couch and paced around to look out the window, "there is something I'd like to talk to you about, Jack."

"What?"

"Unfortunately, this isn't just a social call. I have a warning for you."

"What kind of warning."

Christian turned back to him, the backdrop of the sunny outdoors making him just a shady silhouette, "I meant to tell you before, but we got interrupted, so I made a special trip to come and talk to you—be careful who you trust, Jack. There are people out there who may seem like friends but aren't really."

Jack was quiet as he thought the murky warning over. It was so uninformative and so vague. In many ways, it was completely useless. "What are you talking about? Does this have to do with your case?"

The question seemed to make Christian uncomfortable, "In a way."

"I thought you said that I'm not part of the case."

"You're not supposed to be. However," Christian rubbed the bridge of his nose, "after you witnessed Sawyer shooting Emile Rosa things have become complicated. You see, other people might _think_ you're involved. They might try to ask you questions—fortunately you don't have any answers, so that in itself may keep you safe. Unfortunately, they don't know that, so they might try to…force you to answer."

Jack looked hard at Christian, "Just what kinds of questions might they _ask_, Dad?"

"It's hard to say, really, but naturally, if anyone brings up the subject of Rosa, Sawyer, or _me_ you need to be very careful about what you tell them. I'd prefer it if you didn't tell them anything at all, but that may not be possible."

"Who are these people?"

Christian turned the glass in his hand, stirring his drink, "They come in many shapes and sizes, and some might even look like friends. Of course, there's no particular pattern for them to come in. Just be careful. That's the best thing you can do."

Jack thought about Sayid, even though he really didn't want to. It was inconceivable that someone he'd trusted so well could be working against him. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to be against Jack to be an enemy of Christian's. Jack wondered what the hell this case was all over anyway.

"Another thing you ought to be aware of, I've arranged to have various members of the organization keep an eye on you. For your protection, of course."

"You mean follow me?"

"That's one way to put it. I'm sorry it has to be that way—I didn't want this for you, of course, but that's the nature of the beast."

"Of course."

If an agent was supposed to be following him was that who Sayid had seen? Maybe Sayid really couldn't be trusted. Then again, Sayid had said the CIA couldn't be trusted. Could Christian be trusted? He wanted to trust his dad, but… Maybe no one could be trusted.

"That's all I can tell you for now," Christian said, "I'm sorry. Hopefully this case will be over soon and things will go back to normal for you."

"Is there anything I can do to help? To make it wrap up quicker?"

His father looked at him almost frantically, "No. I think you should just try to stay out of it as much as you can." He added, almost as an afterthought, "Thanks for the offer, Jack."

Frustrated, Jack nodded. How was he supposed to protect himself if he wasn't allowed to do anything? Better yet, how could he protect Kate and Aaron? It was stupid to just sit around, not knowing who to trust, and not do anything. He wasn't the kind of man to do nothing. There had to be some way to get answers.

So far no one seemed willing to give them to him.

"Is something wrong?"

Jack shook his head. "I just wish I knew more about what's going on."

Christian sighed, "Believe me son, I do too. If I could tell you everything you know I would. But the less you know the better: you'll be safer."

"Right, I know."

"I'm going to get this case over with as quickly as I possibly can, and then everything will make sense. You just have to trust me for now."

Trust. He was getting a little tired of that word. Christian said he couldn't trust anyone, Sayid said he couldn't trust Christian. Jack just wanted to find someone who'd tell him the truth and spare the prime time drama."

"Well, now that that's out of the way, I'm afraid I have to be on my way. Lot's to do, you know." Christian set the glass down on the coffee table, picked up the jacket draped over the back of the couch and started to slip into it.

It was so sudden, Jack was caught off guard, "What? Already? That's all you came for?"

"Yes, Jack, that was it. I would like to stay and talk some more, but I have work to do. If I'm going to solve this case I can't afford to slack. As much as I'd like to."

Jack tried not to be hurt, but he was just getting used to the idea that Christian was alive, and he wanted to be with his father, to make up for lost time, or something. He wanted the reappearance of Christian Shephard to be a second chance for them, an opportunity to get to know each other better, to come to love each other more. So far that was just wistful thinking. "Couldn't you stay just a little longer?" he got up and followed Christian to the door.

Christian stopped and smiled at him, "Sorry, kiddo, duty calls." He examined Jack's face and added, "I'll swing by again some time soon."

"Fine. Uh," Jack opened the door for him, "it was nice to see you again." That felt so formal and stiff. He wished there was some other way to send his father off, something more personal and affectionate.

"You too." Christian stepped out the door. Jack watched him go, like a little boy, disappointed to see his dad leave for work. He tried to shake the sentiments away, but couldn't.

Halfway down the drive way, Christian stopped and turned away, "Oh, and Jack, just some fatherly advice, if you don't mind. I think it would be wise if you'd put your wedding on hold for a while. At least until the case is over."

"Right. We were thinking about doing that anyway."

Christian nodded, "A wise decision." He smiled again, "See you later, Son." Then he kept walking, right down the driveway, turned left, and walked down the street.

Jack didn't see a car anywhere, and wondered where Christian was going, "Do you need a ride?" He called.

Christian shook his head and waved, without looking back at his son.

Not that he had a car at the moment anyway.

Jack watched his father get further and further away, until he was just a tiny figure in the distance, and only then did he shut the door.

Sawyer left some bills on the table with his half-eaten plate of food, got up and slipped his sunglasses on. He left the dinner nonchalantly, checking as subtly as possible for any potential danger. He was getting used to keeping his eyes open for threats, even when he should have been relatively safe.

It was just a little after one now. He'd dropped Jack off at his house over two hours ago. That should have been long enough. Hopefully now he could go back to the house across the street without being noticed. There were a lot of black cars on the road, so maybe Jack wouldn't recognize his. Not right away at least. Not before he could get a new one from the agency.

_Are you okay?_

It was the right question to ask. The natural question. A question that begged to be asked, considering the circumstances under which they'd last parted. And still it was the last question Sawyer had expected Jack to ask. He had spent the last two hours wondering what he meant by that. Had Jack just asked because he'd noticed Sawyer's black eyes and fat lip, or had Jack noticed that something was wrong with Sawyer emotionally?

Was there anything wrong anyway? Wasn't it all business as usual?  
Not with Hudson looming over him like the grim reaper.

_One more strike and you're out._

How could anyone be okay when they were being manipulated and threatened every time a door was closed? This case was a matter of life and death for Sawyer, just as much as it was for Jack and Kate, the only difference being, he wasn't wrapped in the sweet blanket of ignorance that they were being protected by. Granted, he didn't know everything that was happening, but he knew enough to know that if this case didn't get solved soon and efficiently they might all wind up dead. If there were people in the agency that had been corrupted and were out to kill the O7 for some reason that put him at risk as much as the other six.

And still, the fact that he knew more than he did, the fact that he was the only one of them that might actually be able to do something, made him all the more determined to make sure nothing happened to them. Even if it pitted him against Hudson and Christian and the whole CIA and everyone else in the world, he had to make sure nothing happened to his friends. That was his personal priority.

Sayid was in that category too, but for some reason the reappearance of the Iraqi bothered him. He didn't really know why, but he didn't trust Sayid. Maybe it was just because he'd picked up Jack earlier, because he'd come seemingly out of nowhere, but whatever the reason, Sawyer had the distinctive gut feeling that Sayid was not to be trusted.

The sooner this case was over the better. Once it was all done he got to start over fresh, without even the tiniest criminal record, and then he could…

What in the world would he do? Go back to conning and waste the second chance? Try to start a respectable life? Settle down, try to find a girl? It was hard to imagine settling down with anyone but Kate. There was always Cassidy and Clementine.

No. He couldn't start thinking that way. First things first.

Sawyer walked up to his car and started to get in.

Someone stepped out from behind a nearby SUV, "Hello, James."

Sawyer jumped back, staring wide eyed, instinctively reaching for his gun.

Benjamin Linus put up his hands warily, but smiled that all too familiar, cunning smile, "Easy James. I just want to talk."

"What the hell makes ya' think I've got anything ta' say ta' _you?_"

"Now James," Ben was coming forward, regardless of the gun, "is that anyway to treat an old friend?"

"You ain't no friend of mine."

"What a shame. Well," he stopped not far away, leaning a little on the hood of Sawyer's car, "if you don't want to talk to me, maybe you'll at least listen to what I have to say."

"Not a chance." Sawyer growled, pulling the car door open.

Ben pushed it shut again and stepped in front of it. He was so close Sawyer could have strangled him if he wanted to. "I think you _should_ listen, James. What I have to say is important, not just for you, but for all of your friends as well, and if you want to have any hope of protecting them you'll hear me out."

"What makes ya' think I'm interested in protectin' _them_." Sawyer tried to sneer.

"I'm not an idiot. I've seen what you're doing, and I'm here to tell you that at the moment your trust may be a little…misplaced."

"What the hell you talking about? I ain't doing-"

"You're working for a man who I believe may be dangerous, not only to you, but to the other six as well. Now, I know that trust isn't exactly in your nature, but you're following this man like a lamb."

Sawyer hesitated just a second too long, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Christian Shephard, James. Jack's father. He's currently your…superior, am I right?"

"What's it ta' you?"

"As I just said, I believe your trust in him is unwise. Christian Shephard has proven to be untrustworthy many times in the past. After all, we're talking about a man who faked his own death and lied to his own son."

"What's that got ta' do with me? Look, I don't know what ya' want, but I don't got it."

"I don't _want_ anything, James. I'm trying to help you."

"I wouldn't ask for your help if I _did_ need it. Now get the hell outta' my way." Sawyer shoved Ben to the side.

"You're aware of who Charles Widmore is, aren't you?"

Sawyer paused, but didn't look back at him.

Ben took it as an invitation to continue. "I have reason to believe that Widmore has hired numerous agents in the CIA to hunt down, capture, and even possibly dispose of the Oceanic Seven. And, I have reason to believe that Christian Shephard is one of them."

The words made Sawyer angry for some reason, and he turned on Ben, all but shouting, "Just what makes ya' think that?"

"I only know what you know, James. But if you considered the facts carefully, I believe you can see how I came to that conclusion. If it _is_ Shephard's plan to find the Oceanic Seven he's off to a good start. After all, he's already got _you_ under his thumb, and now he has Jack, Kate and Aaron in his sights. Wasn't it his idea in the first place to locate all seven of you?"

"That's because he thinks other agents are tryin' ta' kill us, not because _he_ wants ta' kill us."

"Of course, like Thomas Hudson; but tell me something, what if you're the one who has this all backwards? Isn't it possible that Shephard is the one you shouldn't be trusting? He's the one in charge of this case, isn't he? Hudson hasn't made any moves whatsoever to locate any of your friends."

"What are ya' talkin' about? He's the one who-"

"He convinced you to join them yes: he had a means to an end, which happened to involve you—a skilled, young con artist. And you just happen to be one of the Oceanic Seven. The fact that he's not in charge of this case at all indicates to me that that was little more than a coincidence."

Sawyer turned that over in his mind, trying to find the holes. There were some, but he still felt a small splash of doubt go through him. "How the hell do ya' know so much, anyway?"

"I've been watching. That's all."

"Right," Sawyer scoffed, "you're just a good-hearted citizen, concerned for us all."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I _don't_ want Widmore getting his hands on any of you, because I don't want him to find the Island." He studied Sawyer's face a moment, "If you don't want to believe me, you don't have to, but at least keep your mind open to the possibility that Christian Shephard might be your enemy. If he makes a move to locate any of the other Oceanic Seven I'd seriously re-think my loyalty, if I were you. And then I'd get away from the CIA as fast as I could."

"Good advice, Skipper, but I guess ya' didn't pick up on the fact that I can't just pack up an' leave whenever it suits me."

"Maybe you don't think you can," Ben grinned again, that sly look in his eyes burning all the brighter, "but if you don't you may regret it. At this point, you're the only one of the Oceanic Seven the CIA has complete control over. The one thing you and I can agree on is that _some_ members of the agency can't be trusted, and neither of us are sure who they are. That leaves you in a somewhat unstable predicament, doesn't it?

"Keep in mind, you've been led to believe that you're being used to locate and protect the other six, but how do you know you're not being used to locate and _destroy _the other six?"

Sawyer stared at Ben, trying not to let his emotions shine through. He didn't want Ben to know that the words bothered him or that the idea scared him.

"If you don't want my help, I don't have to give it, but if I were you, I'd keep my eyes open." Ben reached into his pocket.

Sawyer went stiff.

But all that was produced was a small, white business card with a phone number hand written on it.

"I'll be here in LA on business for a while. If you change your mind, please call me. I think it's safe to say that at this point, the lives of all of your friends are in your hands."

With that, Ben turned and started to walk across the parking lot, toward the diner, "Have a nice day, James."

Sawyer stared after him, then looked down at the business card. He snorted and almost tossed it to the ground, stuck it in his back pocket as an afterthought, and then got in his car and drove away.

He pulled into the drive way of the house Christian had bought just fifteen minutes later, Benjamin Linus's poisonous words still eating at him. What if he _couldn't_ trust Christian?

That was unfathomable. Christian was on his side. He was helping him. Jack was his son—why would he want to hurt him?

And of course, there was always that tiny possibility that Ben was right, and there was nothing Sawyer could do but try to keep the circumstance in perspective, and an eye on Christian Shephard.

Loveless greeted Sawyer the moment he was through the door, smiling for once, "You're back! Did you find Shephard?"

"Found 'im all right. He's back home now."

"Austen went out earlier," Loveless announced, following Sawyer through the house, "I followed her, of course, but she just went to the park with her son for a while. She's back now."

"Good to know." Sawyer went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, wasn't exactly surprised to see that it was fully stocked. He pulled out a beer and popped it open.

Christian's voice came from somewhere behind him, "Is that you, James? Oh, good to see you're back."

Sawyer turned around quickly, "What are you doin' here?"

"I told you I'd drop by for a visit later." He was entering the room, just as sophisticated and composed as ever. "So. Loveless tells me you had a little trouble this morning."

"Yeah. Had ta' chase your kid around a while. Ev'rything worked out though."

"I guess that means you had to expose yourself to him, though, doesn't it?"

"Didn't have much choice." Sawyer admitted, took a half-hearted swig from the beer.

"It's fine. I went ahead and took the liberty of telling Jack that a few agents would be keeping an eye on him for a while, so at least he won't be too suspicious, and we can concentrate on watching him without having to stay completely hidden. Although, I really don't want him to know that we're staying in this house."

Sawyer looked at Christian a while, not speaking.

"Is something wrong?"

"Tell me somethin', Scotch, just what is it we're after?"

Christian gave him a puzzled look, "What do you mean? We're trying to protect Jack and Kate—all the Oceanic Seven, actually. I thought you knew that."

"I wanna' know why. Who from? What is it this unseen enemy wants with them?"

"You know I can't give you all those answers right now."

"But obviously you know."

"Of course I know."

"Well, Chris, obviously ya' don't trust me enough ta' give out the details, why should I trust _you_?"

The two of them stared at each other for a long time, and Sawyer sensed Loveless watching the exchange with interest in concern, but didn't care.

At last, Christian said, "I understand that you're frustrated, and that this case is personal to you, but you have to be patient. Things will make sense in time."

Sawyer just glared and took another swig of beer before turning to leave the kitchen.

"There's one other thing," Christian said, "Intelligence said that someone has been hanging around outside of the Santa Rosa Institute of Mental Health. I think in that case it's safe to say our enemy has found the whereabouts of Hugo Reyez."

Trying to seem passive, Sawyer looked at him. "So?"

"So, we might have to bring Reyez in. For his protection, of course."

Sawyer tried not to react.

"Ideally, it would be nice if we could get all of the Oceanic Seven into a location where we can keep an eye on them all at once. But that's ideally."

Sawyer's heart sank at the words, but all he said was, "You're the Boss, Hutch." Then he walked away, Ben's words hammering in his brain.


	9. Chapter 9

Hurley sighed and flopped back on his bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. The mental hospital wasn't so bad. There were worse things—at least he wasn't running through the jungle being chased by a monster. Not that he wanted to stay here for the rest of his life. He was getting used to seeing Charlie and even Libby every now and then. He was starting to think that maybe it wasn't such a big deal after all. Maybe he could get over it and leave the hospital soon.

Over the last three years he'd been in and out of Santa Rosa, never fully convinced that he was not crazy, even when the doctors told him that he wasn't. There'd be weeks, sometimes even months, when he wouldn't see anyone who was supposed to be dead, and they'd release him, and he'd live his life normally with his parents, doing all the things he was supposed to do, trying to forget the bad memories from the island. And then Bam. Just like that, there'd be Charlie, sitting on the edge of his bed and grinning at him, saying things like 'You've gotta' get back to the island, mate.' Or even more cryptic, 'Tell Jack he's not s'posed to raise him, mate.'

Which was what he was telling him today.

"I'm tellin' you, Hurley, Jack's _not_ supposed to raise him."

"Dude, I know, all right? Chill."

"No I will not _chill,_ Hurley," phantom Charlie got up and paced across the room to stand beside Hurley's head, "it's an emergency. Don't you understand that?"

Hurley looked up at him, wondering why phantom Charlie always had his sunglasses on, even when he was inside. "I get it, Dude. But, seriously, man, what am I supposed to do? I'm in here—I haven't seen Jack in like a couple years."

Charlie grinned again, "Your right, Mate—it's been so long, that can only mean you're gonna' see 'im again soon, and then you can deliver my message to the sod."

"How do you know I'm going to see him again? What if you're wrong? And even if I _do_ see him again soon, how can I tell him he's not supposed to raise Aaron? How can I explain _why_ or even how I know?

Phantom Charlie shrugged, "I'm sure you'll think of somethin'."

"No, Dude," Hurley sat up, shouting a little, "you know I suck at lying! Why is it my job anyway? Look where I am—he's never going to believe me!"

"But it's worth a shot, eh?"

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" Frustrated, Hurley tossed the pillow at Phantom Charlie, but only managed to knock over his cup of water that was sitting on the bedside table.

Charlie gave him a quirky, offended look, "Alright, alright, ease up there, mate. It's no reason to get all violent. Look, I'd tell Jack myself, Hurley, you know that. But I can't."

Hurley couldn't help glaring at Charlie. Somewhere inside his mind he knew he was insane for listening to ghosty Charlie, and even more so for _responding_, but Charlie seemed so real, and his messages were so persistent, he couldn't help but believe it all. "If I get the chance to tell him, I will," he sighed, "but I can't make any promises."

Grinning again, Charlie nodded, "Great! I knew I could count on you, Hurley."

Hurley tried to keep scowling, but it was almost impossible Charlie standing there smiling that rock star smile at him, and soon he found himself smiling back and even laughing a little. Then they were both laughing, joking with each other and making allusions to things that had happened when Charlie was alive.

"Dude, I miss you." Hurley said quietly, when the teasing had died down.

Charlie sat down next to him, "Don't go gettin' all soggy on me, you sap."

"Seriously. Things haven't been the same since you…you know…left. And I-"

"Sh."

Hurley looked at him, surprised, "Dude. Did you just shush me? I'm telling you something-"

"Hurley," Phantom Charlie gave him an irritated look, "be quiet. Somebody's coming."

"Coming? Man, it's probably just the nurse or my doctor or something. No big deal."

Even as he was talking, Charlie got up and stalked over to the other side of the room to hide, almost like he thought someone else could see him, and in another second he had vanished.

"Charlie?"

On edge, Hurley got up. It wasn't like Charlie to disappear like that just because someone was coming, and he was afraid of what it meant.

The door opened and there was a nurse and a doctor standing there, both smiling. "Good evening, Hugo." The doctor said.

"Hey." Hurley glanced around, just to make sure Charlie was really gone.

"Well, I have good news," the man entered the room, and Hurley noticed the nurse was holding a pile of clothes, "you're being released."

Shocked, Hurley looked up at him, "Released? But I just got here."

"Your case has been reviewed and it's been determined that you're healthy enough to leave the hospital—er, provided you keep on with your medications."

"So I can just leave? Like right now?"

"That's right, Hugo. There's a friend waiting for you downstairs, so you get dressed and I'll escort you myself."

The nurse handed him the clothes with a smile, and then they both left.

Hurley stood in a haze of confusion for several minutes, trying to figure out what had just happened. To be released like that, without so much as a warning, was odd, and it made him feel nervous. As he was getting out of his robe and putting on the clothes they'd given him, he kept his eyes opened for Charlie, but he didn't come back.

When he opened the door, the doctor was just standing there, but the nurse was gone. He smiled at Hurley, "Shall we?"

And they began to walk down the hall way.

"So, uh, you said a friend's here to pick me up? What about my Mom and Dad?"

The doctor's smile didn't fade, "I didn't see either of them. Maybe they're waiting in the car."

"That's a little odd, don't you think, mate?"

Hurley was surprised to find Charlie walking right beside him again, but he knew better than to look surprised.

"I mean, your mum's the one that had you committed, right? Besides," he smiled, "if you're still seein' me you're not all better then, are you?"

Hurley desperately wanted to answer him, but that was out of the question. Charlie had a good point—his mother had committed him, so she should have been there to pick him up. And he _was_ still seeing Charlie, but he was beginning to think that didn't mean anything in the first place, since even taking his heavy doses of medication didn't make the ghosts of his dead friends go away.

"The real question," Charlie went on, "is _what_ friend is here to see you off."

"Uh, so," Hurley walked a little faster to step up beside the doctor, "did my friend give a name?"

There was no way he was going somewhere with someone he didn't know.

"Yes, I believe he said his name was…" the doctor consulted some paperwork he was carrying with him on a clipboard, "Mr. Ford. James Ford."

"James Ford." That name sounded really familiar, but Hurley couldn't place where he'd heard it before.

"It's Sawyer, you feeble-minded yank." Charlie said with a laugh. "Remember the press conference after you and the others got back from the island? They called him James Ford."

Hurley couldn't help squawking out loud, "Sawyer?"

The doctor looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Is something wrong, Hugo?"

"No. No, Dude, it's fine I just…haven't seen James in a long time."

"What do you suppose that con's doin' here, Hurley?" Charlie kept right on smiling. "Even I don't know."

It was weird for Charlie to not know something. This strange, un-dead Charlie, whether he was a product of Hurley's distraught imagination or not, seemed to have answers to a lot of questions Hurley had never even considered asking.

And Hurley had no idea what he meant by calling Sawyer a con.

The doctor led the way to the elevator, and he and Hurley-along with phantom Charlie-made their way to the first floor, down another hall, and into the front lobby, where, sure enough, Sawyer was waiting.

He was taller than Hurley remembered, or maybe it just seemed that way because he was wearing a clean-cut, classy business suit with a tie. His hair was clean and well-kept, face shaved. His cold, blue eyes homed in on Hurley the moment he was through the door, but he didn't smile like Hurley expected him to. He was just standing there, perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back.

"Cleans up nice, don't he?" Charlie murmured. "The man looks like a sodding FBI agent."

Hurley barely kept from laughing out loud. _Sawyer, an FBI agent. Right._

He followed the doctor, who was approaching Sawyer with a smile, "Here he is, Mr. Ford. I hope I was timely enough."

Sawyer ignored him and nodded at Hurley. He smiled, but it was a ghost of the impudent, devil-may-care smile Hurley remembered. "Hugo."

"Hey, Dude. What are you doing here?"

This time Sawyer ignored Hurley and turned to the doctor, "I gotta' sign somethin' or what?"

"Oh yes, of course." The doctor handed him the clipboard and a pen. Sawyer took his own pen out of his pocket and scratched some initials on a few different forms, then handed it all back to the man.

"That should do it." The doctor smiled, but his expression betrayed some annoyance and uncertainty. He glanced at Hurley, saw him looking, "Well, Hugo, that's that. You're free. And I'd rather not see you back here, okay?" He pumped Hurley's hand and patted him on the shoulder.

"Right Dude. See you later. I mean. I won't see you later. Bye."

With that, the doctor nodded to Sawyer, then turned away, gave Hurley one last look, like he was expecting him to do something, and then walked away, sighing a little.

Charlie watched him go, a bemused look on his face, "If I didn't know any better, Hugo, I'd say he's worried about you. I wonder why though—could it be he doesn't trust our good friend James?"

Hurley pondered that as he turned back to Sawyer, "So, Dude, what are you doing here?"

"Ain't got time ta' explain, Hugo. We gotta' get movin' pronto."

"Yeah, but Dude, I mean, I haven't seen you in years. How did you even know I was here? How did you get them to let me out? Have you been talking to my mom or something?"

"I ain't never even met your mama', Hugo, now step it up. We're rollin' out."

Saying nothing further, Sawyer turned and led the way out of the hospital, and Hurley, reluctantly, followed, Charlie whispering to him as they went, "Watch it, mate. This is weird."

The sun was setting, making the city look like it was on fire, and directly overhead the clouds were dark. Hurley was relieved to feel the refreshing breath of the wind breezing through his hair and across his skin. He followed Sawyer out to the parking lot, silently.

Sawyer was heading for a small, black car. Hurley went around to the passenger side.

"You're not seriously getting in, are you?" Charlie demanded.

"Why not, man? I trust Sawyer."

"You say somethin'?" Sawyer turned to look back at him.

"No. Nothin' Dude."

Charlie insisted, "Trust him or not, you ought to at least ask him where he's taking you."

That at least seemed like sound advice, and Hurley hesitated by the door.

Sawyer raised an eyebrow at him, "What's your problem? Get in."

"Dude, can't you like, tell me where we're going first?"

Sawyer snorted, "What, don't ya' trust me, Hugo?"

"No, yeah, I do. But, I just wanna' know, you know? Where we're going. How you got me out. And like, why are you all dressed up? Where've you been for five years? Last I heard, no one's really seen or heard from you since we got back."

"Look, Hugo," Sawyer sighed, "As much as I'd like ta' siddown and have an ice cream social with ya', we ain't got time."

"But-"

"I'll explain later."

He sounded sincere. Hurley couldn't think of any real reasons not to believe him. Not to trust him. Sawyer had been a leader when they were on the island—not quite the way Jack was, but he was charismatic and intelligent and Hurley had trusted him and even looked up to him in some ways. Maybe he wasn't always honest, but at least he was dependable.

Hurley studied Sawyer's face, noticing for the first time how banged up and run down he looked. From a distance he appeared smooth as cream, the same cool devil he'd been on the island, but up close Hurley saw that both his eye sockets were bruised and his lip was fat like he'd been punched. Besides that, there was a strange, uneasy look in his eyes.

"Looks like he's had a rough go of it." Charlie commented, toying with his sunglasses.

Hurley glanced at him, then back at Sawyer.

"What the hell you starin' at?" Sawyer demanded.

"Dude, what happened to your face?"

"What the hell happened ta' _yours?_ Get in the damn car."

With a shrug, Hurley reached for the handle. He was just going to have to trust that Sawyer knew what he was doing and that he wasn't going to take him anywhere he didn't want to go.

He was about to get in when a voice choked with a thick accent spoke up from a shadow behind him, "I highly advise that you do not get in the car, Hurley."

"Sayid?" Hurley spun around, smiling, "Dude, you're here too?"  
"Well, well," Charlie murmured, "didn't see that one comin'. You?"

Sayid stepped out of the shadows, wearing a black leather jacket that was zipped up all the way to his neck, in spite of the climate, and a pair of black jeans. He didn't look happy. Not even a little. "Hello Hurley. It's been a long time."

"Dude, too long!"

"Sayid." Sawyer said. Something about his voice was strange. He sounded angry.

But Sayid just nodded to him demurely. "Sawyer."

"What're _you_ doin' here?"

"I came to see Hurley, of course. And yourself?"

"Came ta' get him the hell outta' this bird cage."

"And of course, you intend to take him back to his superior. Correct?"

"Mate, be careful." Phantom Charlie whispered, leaning in so close Hurley could have swore he felt warm breath on his ear, "Somethin' about this ain't right."

Hurley could feel the tension himself, and as he looked between Sawyer and Sayid, he realized that they were staring each other down warily. Sawyer reached around to his back pocket, and Sayid's hand slipped into his jacket. The look in both of their eyes was hard and cold.

"So what if I am?" Sawyer challenged.

"I'm sorry, Sawyer, but I cannot allow you to take him."

"That so? Why not?"

"Because, as we both know, your superior cannot be trusted."

Sawyer got sort of a funny look on his face, but his voice stayed harsh, "Oh, and yours can? Just who are _you_ workin' for, Ali Baba?"

"Who I'm working for, and indeed _if_ I'm working for anyone, is none of your concern. I suggest you get in your car and leave Hurley to me."

"How the hell do I know I can trust you with him?"

"Dudes," Hurley spoke up for the first time, "What's going on? What's all this 'my superior, your superior' stuff?"

They both looked at him like they were just remembering that he was there.

"Never mind, just get in the car." Sawyer ordered. "Sayid, you mind your own damn business."

Sawyer started to get into the car, and Hurley did the same.

"Don't move, Hurley."

Hurley looked up to see that Sayid was aiming a small handgun at Sawyer.

"Dude, what are you doing?" He yelled.

Sawyer glared at him, eyebrows settling close to his eyes, that dark, angry look Hurley knew all to well. For some reason, he was suddenly remembering in perfect clarity how vehemently these two had fought when they'd first crashed on the island. He'd thought that was long since over.

"That settles it," Charlie decided, sliding his sunglasses back onto his face, "You shouldn't go with either of them."

"You pointin' a gun at me, Sayid?" Sawyer demanded, his voice harsh and black.

"I'm sorry, Sawyer, but I cannot allow Hurley to go with you—I believe it is in his best interest to come with me."

"Well _I_ don't. I don't even know who you're workin' with. It could be Widmore himself."

"I assure you it is not—because the one working for Widmore is _you_."

"The hell I am!" Sawyer slammed his car door and started to come around the hood toward Sayid.

"Stay back!" Sayid shouted, pointing the gun with all the more determination and cocking it.

"Sayid!" Hurley shouted. "Put the gun down!"

"Ya' wanna' shoot me, Sayid?" Sawyer spread his arms, "Do it!"

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Sayid said coldly. "Because you're a traitor."

"Hey! Didn't you hear me, Sayid? Put the gun away—I'm not going with either of you!"

"Nonsense. You're coming with me." Sayid began to back away, keeping both eyes on Sawyer. "Come on."

"You're makin' a big mistake, Sayid." Sawyer said.

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe."

Sayid smiled for the first time. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon, and you'll have your chance to fulfill that threat. Until then." He nodded to Hurley, and continued to recede.

Hurley stood there, not sure what to do. It seemed he had no choice but to go with Sayid. If he tried to leave Sayid might shoot Sawyer—in any case, he couldn't go with Sawyer, and unless he wanted to hitchhike home or to a phone to call a cab, he had to go with the Iraqi. He looked helplessly at Sawyer, who was just standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"Never mind. I'll catch ya' later, Hugo."

Nodding slightly, Hurley turned to go after Sayid.

Before he even knew it, he was in Sayid's car and they were pulling out of the hospital parking lot, and Sawyer was just a distant figure standing under a street light, not moving. Hurley looked at him through the back window as they drove away, and Phantom Charlie sat in the back seat, air guitaring a little, even though there wasn't any music.

"So, Dude," Hurley looked at Sayid once they were out on the main street, "what's going on? Why'd you pull a gun on him?"

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Hurley, however it was unavoidable. You see, as much as I regret it, I'm afraid Sawyer cannot be trusted."

"Seriously? Why not?"

"It's difficult to explain, and I'm unable to answer all of your questions, but what I can tell you for the time being is that Sawyer is currently working for the CIA."

"What?" Hurley looked back at Charlie, wondering how he'd known. "Seriously, Dude? Sawyer's a secret agent?"

"Something like that."

"So then…why can't we trust him? What was all that stuff about Charles Widmore?"

"I have reason to believe that Sawyer's superior is working for Widmore himself."

Hurley was quiet a second. He, admittedly, didn't know everything about Charles Widmore, other than he was the father of Desmond's lover, Penny, and he was trying to find the island for some reason. He had sent troops of trained soldiers to the island in order to kill Benjamin Linus; the operation had failed, but in the process, countless others had died, including Hurley's friend Jin. He said softly, "Sawyer doesn't know, does he? There's no way he knows."

"I'm not sure yet if Sawyer realizes it. Obviously he still trusts his superior and believes that he wants to help the Oceanic Seven, but then, there's no guarantee it would make a difference."

"What do you mean?" Hurley blurted. "Of course it makes a difference! Sawyer would never be working for Widmore—he'd never sell us out!"

"I'd like to believe that's true, Hurley, but unfortunately I've had to confront some rather distressing realities concerning Sawyer." Keeping both eyes on the road, he reached into the storage hump between the seats and took out a bright red folder that said classified. "Read this."

"What is it?"

"You'll understand if you read it."

Hurley opened the folder and started to look it over. Charlie sat forward and leaned over his shoulder to read along.

"It's a bloody criminal record." Charlie observed.

For a few minutes, Hurley perused the records, looking over the details of the crimes James Ford had committed—conning people, stealing and whatnot. Then he closed it and looked at Sayid.

"Don't shut it." Charlie protested. "I was readin' that!"

"How do I know this is real? What if you're makin' it all up?"

"Why would I make it up?"

"Sawyer thinks you're working for Widmore. How do I know you're not?"

Sayid took his eyes off the road just long enough to make eye-contact with Hurley, "Believe me, I hate Charles Widmore with all of my heart. There's no way I would ever work for him."

"Even if Sawyer _is_ a con artist, that doesn't mean we can't trust him."

"Yes it does. The proof is right there in your hand—he's a practiced liar who cares nothing for the feelings of others. Just the kind of man Widmore would try to employ."

"Dude, I don't believe it. You can't make me believe it."

"Hurley," Sayid sighed, "I'm not saying with any certainty that Sawyer cannot be trusted. For all I know he can. However, until I can be sure, it is my duty to keep you, and all of our other friends away from him. If I can."

"See how much simpler things were on the island?" Charlie said, sitting back again. "None of this, CIA-FBI-Widmore-vs-Linus malarkey."

Hurley turned the folder over in his hands, looking for sign that it was a fake, but everything about it seemed official. "Where did you get this?"

Sayid glanced at him, seemingly nervous, "You'll see soon enough."

"Does Sawyer know you have it?"

"No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"He'd be mad if he knew, huh?"

"Possibly."

"I still can't imagine him working for Widmore. Sawyer's a good guy-a little shady-but still a good guy."

"A _little_ shady, Hurley?" Charlie laughed. "The man's a bloody con artist. You're the last to know, as usual, mate."

Hurley continued, "I mean, how do you know he's not in trouble?"

Sayid pulled up to a red light and frowned at Hurley, "What do you mean by that?"

"Uh, I don't know, Dude. Did you see the bruises on his face? He's one of the Oceanic Seven too, you know. What if he's bein'…I dunno, manipulated or something."

"I supposed the possibility shouldn't be overlooked." Sayid said cooling, rolling forward.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say? There's nothing I can do."

"Since when?" Hurley demanded. "On the island you were always all 'let's do it', and 'if I rig it this way it'll blow everything sky-high', so there's gotta' be something you can do."

"Hurley-"

"Sawyer's our friend, Sayid, and if Widmore's after the Oceanic Seven then he's after Sawyer too."

Sayid was quiet a few minutes, then he sighed, "You're right. I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do for Sawyer I'll make sure it's done, but before then my priority is to take you somewhere safe."

Hurley nodded. Sayid's words seemed shallow, so he doubted he was really going to try to help Sawyer, although, he couldn't think of any reason why he wouldn't, but at any rate, there was no way to force him to, so he had to go with that for now.

There was a little more silence, and Charlie leaned forward again to hiss, "And who do you suppose Sayid is workin' for?"

Only one way to find out.

Sawyer took his time going into the house, popping a breath mint in his mouth as he went to disguise the smell of alcohol on his breath. It was late at night, and Jack's house across the street was dark. With any luck, Loveless was asleep, and Christian was gone. That way he could avoid any unwelcome questioning. At least for the night.

It had been hours since he'd lost Hurley to Sayid, and he'd been sitting in a bar down the street for a while, trying to decide how to handle the situation, how to break the news to Christian. At first he'd been afraid that this would mean another punishment from the top, but he'd gradually convinced himself that it didn't really matter.

Regardless of who Sayid was working for-Widmore or anyone else-he knew that Sayid wasn't going to hurt Hurley personally, and he'd probably take ever precaution possible to make sure Hurley was safe. That meant Hugo was in good hands for now. At least until he could get him back. Or until he could verify that Christian was trustworthy, whatever came first.

He wanted to trust Christian, but ever since his conversation with Ben earlier he'd found his mind speckled with doubts. How did he know Shephard wasn't the enemy? What if he was the one working for Widmore? Of course, Sawyer knew that was practically impossible, but there was still that tiny chance. And until he was positive that it really was impossible, he couldn't put anymore of his friends in danger. Hurley was in Sayid's hands now, and maybe that was for the best. Maybe that was what was safest anyway.

Sawyer sidled toward the kitchen, thinking of grabbing one last beer before heading to bed. It was dark, and he slid his hands along the unfamiliar surface of the wall as he groped his way to the kitchen.

He was half way there when a light came on in the living room.

"James. Come here, please."

Sawyer froze, not responding, holding his breath a little. _What the hell am I hidin'_ _for?_

"James? I know you're there."

With a sigh, Sawyer turned back and headed toward the living room. It had been pushing his luck to think that Christian wasn't waiting for him to bring Hurley back. He turned the corner to go into the living room, stopped short, staring.

Christian was sitting on the couch, holding a glass of scotch, looking slightly Hudson was standing behind the couch, arms folded, face darker than usual.

Sawyer's heart started to race, his breath short. Automatically, he clenched a fist at his side, the other hand absently touching his blackened left eye.

With a grin, Hudson said, "Welcome home, Ford."

Hiding his nervousness, Sawyer looked at Christian, "What's he doin' here?"

"Have a seat, James." Christian gestured toward the chair across from him.

Sawyer didn't move. Did they know about Sayid? Or was it something else? Was this strike three? Did this mean he was going to prison?

_God no._

"What's he doin' here, Christian?" He demanded, a little more firmly.

"Agent Hudson just came by to see how our investigation is going. Wasn't that nice of him?" Christian was smiling, but his eyes were wary.

"Right thoughtful of him." Sawyer said under his breath.

Hudson smiled too, but it was the kind of smile that made Sawyer want to crawl away and die. "Nobody's gonna' hurt you, kid. Siddown."

Reluctantly, Sawyer walked over and sat down on the arm of the chair, "'S a little late ta' be havin' a chat like this, don't ya' think?"

"Well, we-"

Hudson cut Christian off effectively, "You're the one coming home late, Ford. It's your own damn fault."

"This won't take long." Christian added. "We were just discussing the case. You see, Agent Hudson was just sharing his third party theory with me."

"_Third_ party?" Sawyer glanced from one agent to the other, trying not to stare at Hudson's scar for too long.

"That's right. He believes that, apart from our investigation and the corrupted agents, there's also another group of people who are trying to locate the Oceanic Seven."

"But I have no idea why." Hudson admitted.

"Well, what makes ya' think that, Boss?"

Hudson's face darkened slightly, "You'd know better than I would, Ford."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Of course you don't. What _do_ you know?"

"If there's a third party I don't know nothin' about it."

Hudson scoffed, "Who learned ya' your grammar? I swear to God you talk that way just to make me angry."

Sawyer couldn't help shooting him an insolent look, opened his mouth to say 'I'd never spend that much attention on _you'_, but Christian interrupted.

"It's 'anything', James." He stirred his glass a little. "And are you sure you don't know anything about it? Have you noticed anything suspicious during your observation of Shephard's household?"

"Not a thing." Best to keep Sayid a secret as long as Hudson was around. As long as he wasn't sure he could trust Christian.

"I see."

"I heard you almost lost Shephard earlier." Hudson sneered. "That's terribly careless of you, Ford."

Sawyer looked at him, speaking carefully. "Now just how did ya' come ta' find out somethin' like that?"

Hudson looked like he'd been caught in a lie, then he just shrugged indifferently, "News travels quickly."

"That it does. 'Cept the only problem is that the only ones who know about that are me, Lovie, and Scotch. And of course the guys who took Shephard."

"James." Christian warned.

A look of anger filled Hudson's face, and he took a step from behind the couch, "Just what are you trying to say_, James_."

"Nothin'. You got somethin' ta' deny, Benedict Arnold?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, you goddamn hick?" Hudson shouted, coming a little closer. "Do you even know who Benedict Arnold _was_?"  
"Naw. I just kick around terms like that."

"How dare _you_ of all people accuse _me_? _You're_ the criminal, not me!"

Sawyer stared back at him steadily, ready to move out of the way if he had to.

"Calm down, Thomas." Christian said coolly, sipping from his scotch, "Have a drink."

"This punk's trying to make a fool of us!"

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Now then, James, just keep your eyes open for anyone suspicious. If there is another force at work here we need to confirm it. By the way, where's Reyez?"

He knew they'd get around to that eventually. Now the only trouble was thinking up a good answer without mentioning Sayid. "I went ta' get him, like ya' said, but he was gone already."

Both agents stared at him. "Gone?"

"That's right. I went in askin' for him an' they told me he was released earlier today. Tough break, I guess."

"Did they say who got him out?"

"I asked, but they said it was confidential."

Hudson ground his teeth together, "Don't give us that shit, you idiot! You really expect us to believe he just _wasn't there_? Where is he really?"

"Just told ya', Tommy Boy; I dunno' where he went or who took him."

With a snarl, Hudson lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Sawyer's shirt, "What did I tell you about nicknames? I'm your superior, Ford—you address me as such."

Sawyer tried to suppress the wild hammering of his heart as he stared into those cold eyes, but he was sure everyone could hear it, "Right. Sorry. I forgot."

"I'm sure you did. And furthermore, I don't believe your story about Reyez not being there—you think you can double-cross us and get away with it? Where is he?"

"Thomas, calm down." Christian repeated. "He says he doesn't know."

"That's what he says, but I don't believe him. Do you?"

"I'm afraid I have no choice. I don't think James would endanger his freedom so recklessly."

"That's right, your freedom, _James_. On your freedom, where is Hugo Reyez."

"For the last time, I got no idea." Sawyer pulled at Hudson's wrist a little, trying half-hearted to dislodge it. "What're ya' so worried for? If it's got ya' that upset why don't ya' go out and look for him yourself? Hell, maybe you already know where he is."

Enraged, Hudson swung Sawyer around and slammed him against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

"I've had it with your treasonous allusions, Ford. You'd better watch your step."

Sawyer was so angry at being treated like a ragdoll, he completely lost control of himself for a second, shoved Hudson back roughly, "Get the hell offa' me, ya' fat slob!"

Immediately, he knew it was the wrong move to make. Fire flashed in Hudson's eyes, and the next thing Sawyer knew, the man's giant fist had met with his face, and he was on the floor, on his back, head feeling like it was split open down the side, and Hudson was standing over him, shouting, "You asked for it, Ford! Don't you realize I could put you away for the rest of your life?"

Then it took every bit of Sawyer's will power to stay on the floor, not jump up and hit Hudson back. It didn't matter anyway, because Christian had set down his glass and was at Hudson's side, pushing him away a little, "Thomas, just leave, please. Let me handle this."

Hudson jabbed a finger at Christian, "You! You're always protect him! When are you going to face it—he deserves to get his ass busted!"

"I'll take care of it, sir. You just go home and get some rest."

Hudson glared down meaningfully at Sawyer, muttered, "You keep rubbing me the wrong way, you hick bastard. Just wait and see what happens when I lose my temper." With that, he turned away, snagging his coat from the closet as he went, "I expect Reyez to be recovered as soon as possible, and then I expect to be informed about where he was and whether or not a third party was responsible for his disappearance. Is that clear? If he cannot be found, I'll take it out of your hide, Ford." He slammed the door so hard a picture fell off te wall and broke.

Christian watched him go, then sighed, and helped Sawyer up, "Just can't help playing with fire, can you?"

Sawyer rubbed his face and realized he was bleeding from somewhere. He vaguely remembered the large ring on Hudson's right hand. And now that the man was gone, his face hurt like hell.

"I have to admit, James, that was honorable of you, but it was foolish as well. Don't do anything like that ever again."

"Honorable, Hutch?" Sawyer spat some blood out and wiped his lips with his sleeve.

"Well, obviously you know where Reyez is and just didn't want to tell Hudson. But honestly, you didn't have to goad him like that."

"I dunno' where Reyez is." Sawyer muttered. "I was tellin' the truth."

Christian stared at him, seemingly shocked. "You mean he really was gone when you arrived?"

Sawyer nodded.

"And that's the truth?"

"Why would I lie ta' ya'?"

"I don't know."

Still rubbing his face and neck, Sawyer walked over to the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. The whole left side of his face looked like it was going to swell, and there was a clean gash in his cheek that was dribbling blood down to his chin. He wiped it away absently with the back of his sleeve.

"Let me take a look at that. You might need stitches."

Sawyer stepped away before Christian could touch him, "Never mind. It's fine."

Christian seemed startled. He stared at him for a second before asking, "What were you thinking? You know Husdon's not supposed to realize we suspect him for a traitor. You might as well have just come out and told him."

"Been drinkin' a little." Sawyer shrugged. To Christian's skeptical face he added, "Look, I'll figure out what to do about Reyez first thing in the mornin'. Just don't worry about it." Then he turned to head upstairs to where his room was.

"Sawyer, wait a minute," Christian grabbed his shoulder.

Reluctantly, Sawyer looked at him. "What?"  
"I have to tell you something. I can't help but feel like it's my duty to warn you."

"Warn me 'bout what?"

"Hudson. You need to be careful—he's a dangerous man. I've known him a long time, so I know just how dangerous he can be."

"How dangerous?"

"I didn't want to tell you this…but he's the reason I had to pretend to die. He was the man following me."

Sawyer stared at him, not sure if he should believe that. "Why?"

"Why isn't important right now, what matters is that if he'd gotten the chance he would have killed me. He's a killer right down to his rotten core."

"But…if he tried ta' kill ya' before, why ain't he tryin' it now?"

"He had the right opportunity then, but he's not in any position to try it now."

"Ya' hide it pretty well."

"He's not supposed to know that I know it was him. But I do." Christian sighed and looked away, "Listen, this isn't about me, James. This is about you—Hudson says that if you don't cooperate he'll have you thrown in prison, but honestly, I don't think that's the truth. For whatever reason, Hudson hates you, passionately, and if he's really working for the other side like I believe he is, then he's going to kill you the first chance he gets. He'll use you to locate the other six members of the Oceanic Seven, and then he'll likely dispose of you, without remorse."

Sawyer looked back at Christian, trying to look like the idea didn't scare him, "Thanks for the warnin', Chief, but what the hell can I do about it?"

"Just make sure he doesn't win. We have to find all the Oceanic Seven and get them some place safe. That's our only option at this point."

Sawyer was quiet. That was what Ben had warned him against—Christian trying to get all the Oceanic Seven together, in one place.

"If you really don't know where Reyez is, you'd better hope and pray that Hudson doesn't either."

"I don't think he does. Otherwise why would he've been so determined to make me tell 'im?"  
Christian shrugged. "I'm not sure of anything right now. Just be careful." He looked seriously at Sawyer, "I'll do anything in my power to keep him from killing you, James, but I can't guarantee that I can protect you."  
Sawyer stared at him. _There's no way Christian's the one workin' for Widmore. I can't believe that. _It was impossible to think that Hudson was the good guy when Christian was so clearly the only one who he could trust.

But Ben's words were still heavy in his mind, and he wasn't positive, so he had to keep watching, just in case. Just in case he was somehow totally wrong.

Christian clapped a hand on Sawyer's shoulder, "Go clean up and get some rest, kiddo. It's another big day tomorrow."


	10. Chapter 10

Sayid pulled up in front of a rundown motel just a while after the sun had gone down completely, and Hurley felt nervous. The place looked shady to say the least, with people loitering outside the rooms smoking, hooded gang members forming circles and staring at the car. A few of the rooms appeared to be boarded up, and Hurley saw a few stray cats running through the parking lot. One had a large rat in its mouth.

"What are we doing here?" Hurley asked.

Sayid was already starting to get out of the car, "We'll be staying here for a few days."

"Dude, is it…safe?"

"Perfectly. Now come on."

Reluctantly, Hurley stepped out of the car as well, and Phantom Charlie was beside him in an instant. "Not exactly the Ritz is it?"

"Um, Sayid," Hurley walked quickly to keep up with his friend, "what's going on anyway? Like, why did you bring me here and stuff?"

"To protect you from Charles Widmore, of course. When my employer informed me that Sawyer was going to have to released from the hospital tonight I went as quickly as I could to get there ahead of him."

"You think Widmore was behind Sawyer getting me out?"

"It's possible. Regardless of whether or not that's the case, you'll be much safer here."

Hurley glanced around skeptically, "You sure, Dude? How long will I have to hang out here anyway? I'd kinda' like to go home."

"You'll remain here just until I can locate Charles Widmore and dispose of him."

Hurley swallowed hard.

"Bollocks." Charlie muttered. "That could be a long time, couldn't it?"

"Uh. Won't that like take a while?"

"No." Sayid said simply. "I intend to find him within the week, and as soon as I do he will no longer be a problem."

Hurley didn't like the cold, calculated quality to Sayid's voice. There was something deadly about it, a blackness that hadn't existed when he was on the island.

"What about Jack and Kate and the others? Who's keeping them safe?"

"Unfortunately, at the moment, it's Sawyer. But I'll change that as soon as time allows."

"He'd never hurt Kate or Jack." Hurley said confidently.

"Not knowingly. I doubt it."

Sayid reached into his pocket and got out a key, walked up to room 15. The white paint was chipped and pealing, the brass numbers tarnished, and the door knob was scratched. He unlocked it regardless, revealing a pure black room that smelled like old cigarette smoke, and looked at Hurley, "Follow me." Then he disappeared into the dark.

Trying to overcome his uneasiness, Hurley began to follow.

Phantom Charlie lingered, "Hurley…I don't like this."

Hurley looked back at him, "Dude. I need you."

Charlie kept looking into the room uncertainly, "Mate, you don't know what's in there. _Who's_ in there. It could be a trap."

"C'mon, Man, don't bail on me. We can trust Sayid."

Still, Charlie looked reluctant.

Sayid called from within the room, "Hurley? Who are you talking to?"

"No one, Dude." With one last pleading look to Charlie, he followed Sayid, was relieved to find that the ghost of his friend came in behind him.

The room was small, seemingly crammed full of furniture—two twin sized bed against the left wall, a bathroom at the back, and a tiny TV set on the right. It smelled horrible, and the darkness bothered Hurley. He groped for a light switch but didn't find one.

Near the back of the room was a small, dark figure, sitting perfectly still, as if waiting.

"Who's that?" Charlie whispered, stepping closer to Hurley. It was strange that a ghost would be afraid. Then again, Charlie was really just a product of his deranged mind, wasn't he?

"Hello Hugo."

Hurley felt his breath catch in his lungs. He knew that voice all too well, and it brought back wave upon wave of terrifying, chilling memories that he had tried hard to forget over the last five years. For reassurance, he looked at Sayid, who had stepped to the side, and was standing there stiffly. He didn't even look at Hurley.

A dim, orange light flickered on and Benjamin Linus was smiling back at Hurley, just the way Hurley remembered him, with bugging, blue eyes and that cold, sly grin.

"It's been a long time." Ben said, coming forward with a hand extended.

Hurley and Charlie leapt back in the same instant.

"You!" Hurley cried.

"Him?"

Ben's smile didn't falter, "Yes. It's me. I'm sorry if you were expecting someone else."

"Dude," Hurley turned to Sayid, "What's he doing here?"

Sayid lowered his eyes, obviously not wanting to admit something."

"I told you not to come in here, Hurley," Charlie practically yelled, "and I was right! This blighter planned the whole sodding thing!"

"Calm down, Hugo," Ben suggested, finally lowering his hand. "Have a seat. I'm sorry we can't offer you anything to drink, but do feel free to make yourself at home."

"What do you want?" Hurley demanded. "Are you telling me _you_ sent Sayid to get me?"

"Yes, and lucky for you I did. Otherwise you might be in Widmore's clutches by now."

"No way, man! I was way better off with Sawyer!"

"I'm sure Sayid already told you, but I'd like to reiterate that at the moment Sawyer cannot be trusted."

"Since when can _you_ be trusted?"

"Believe it or not, Hugo, I'm trying to help you and your friends."

"Yeah, well I don't believe it! Why should I? All you've ever done is lie and put people in cages and stuff!"

"Those days are over, Hugo. No matter what my motives are, the fact of the matter is that you and I are on the same side, even if it is only because Charles Widmore is on the other side."

"I don't want to be on your side." Hurley whispered, starting to back away. "I'm getting out of here."

"Hurley," Sayid spoke for the first time, "I understand this is difficult to accept-and I don't like it any more than you do-but-"

"Dude, shut up! You brought me here! You're _working_ for this guy! How can I trust you any more than I trust him?"

Sayid seemed vaguely hurt, but he said no more.

Phantom Charlie tugged at Hurley's shirt, "Hurley, let's get the hell out of this place."

"Right Dude." Hurley glanced warily from Ben to Sayid, and then, as quickly as he could burst back out through the door and started running, not sure where he was going or how to get there. He looked frantically for some direction, some sign for what way he should take.

Sayid and Ben came out after him, shouting.

"Hurley wait!"

"Hugo, just listen for a minute! Charles Widmore is after you and your friends! The only thing you can do is-"

"Get away from me!" Hurley screaming, continuing to run as fast as his large body would allow. People were staring, murmuring to each other, but no one moved to help him. Hurley darted to the street and stood there, watching the traffic zoom by and praying for a chance to run across the road.

"Hurley!" Sayid ran up to him.

"Stay back!" Hurley backed away.

"Hurley, listen to me—I understand how upsetting this is, but it's the only way!"

"Dude, listen to yourself! How can you trust that guy? Just think of all the crap he did to us!"

"Believe me. I hate Benjamin Linus, and if I could kill him, I would. But at the moment, he's our best chance to get rid of Charles Widmore and protect our friends!"

"Give me one good reason why I should believe that!"

A yellow taxi suddenly screeched to a halt outside the motel and a few people got out, laughing and joking.

"Hurley!" Charlie grabbed at Hurley's shirt again, "Look! Quick! Quick!" Then he started running toward the cab.

Hurley turned to run after him as fast as he could.

Sayid shouted and dove for him, trying to grab him, but he wasn't quick enough, and Hurley got to the cab and clambered in.

"Hurry!" He yelled at the driver. "Those guys are after me!"

The cabbie gave him a strange look in the rearview mirror. "Where ya' goin'?"

Stuttering a little, Hurley gave his home address, and added 'Step on it' for good measure.

The cab driver pealed out just as Sayid got to the car door and made a wild grab for the handle. His hand was wrenched away as the car pulled out, and he was left standing on the side of the road, looking totally lost.

Hurley stared out the back window at him for a while, making sure no one was following him, then he turned around, sank down into the seat with a sigh.

It took him a second to realize Charlie was talking to him. "I don't think it's a good idea, Hurley, goin' to your mum's house."

Hurley looked at him and started to ask why before remembering that they weren't alone.

"They'll know to look for you there." Phantom Charlie had taken his sunglasses off at last and was looking at Hurley seriously. "If I were you, I'd hide out somewhere else."

Hurley thought that over a little frantically. Where could he hide out? Was there a place Sayid and Ben wouldn't be able to find him at? Friends he could rely on? The only friends that came to mind were Jack and Kate, but wouldn't Sayid know to check there?

Maybe. But maybe not. And even if he did look there, there was safety in numbers. Maybe if Hurley stayed with Jack and Kate Sayid wouldn't be able to make him go back with him to Ben. It was worth a shot.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, began to go through it in a blind panic, looking for Jack's address. "Dude," he called out to the driver when he found the slightly yellowed, creased bit of paper, "I changed my mind."

­

Jack stared hard out the window at the house across the street. Most of the windows on the first floor were all lit up, and every now and then he saw shadowy figures of people walking around, but there weren't any cars in the driveway. That seemed strange. From the look of it, at least two people were living there—could they keep both cars in the garage? And why hadn't there been any moving vans? Had he just not noticed? Something about it bothered him.

He heard Kate coming up behind him. "I put Aaron to bed. It would be nice if you'd go up and read him a story or something."

"Right. In a minute." Jack kept both eyes on the house across the street, wondering if he was just being paranoid.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It just looks like we have some new neighbors."

Kate's brow creased as she leaned forward to look out the window. "Yeah. I guess so. Does that bother you?"

Jack studied the house a minute longer before standing up straight again and trying to smile, "No. I just didn't realize the place had been sold."

"Maybe they have some kids Aaron can play with." Kate murmured. "There aren't any kids in this neighborhood—I don't want him to be lonely."

"Maybe." Jack agreed. He looked intently at her face, memorizing every line and curve of her feature. Then he touched her hand, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll make some friends."

Smiling, she stood up as well, "You're right. I shouldn't worry so much."

Jack nodded and started to turn toward the stairs.

"By the way, Jack, you said you saw someone today. Who was it?"

He stopped. His encounter with Sayid had been so long ago that he had almost forgotten it had been earlier that morning. It seemed almost insignificant after his conversation with Christian. "Oh. Right. I totally forgot." He started to say 'Sayid', but then stopped himself, wondering if maybe it would be better if she didn't know. He'd have to think it over before just telling her arbitrarily.

She looked at him expectantly.

Jack grinned, "I'll tell you about it later, all right?"

Kate nodded, but she looked a little confused.

He sighed. He hated having to lie to her, and he really wanted to tell her the truth, especially after everything that had been going on lately, but he wasn't sure that he could. Maybe it was in her best interest to not know. Discretion. There were a lot of things these days that required discretion. Like whether or not they should continue on with the wedding as planned. He hated that just as soon as they'd made the decision to settle down together there was stuff getting in the way. All these complications.

"Hey." He started to make his way back to her, reaching out for her hand. "Kate, about this morning, those things I said to you…I just wanted to tell you that I-"

Kate suddenly looked away, back toward the window, and at first he thought she was just being difficult.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"I thought I heard something outside. Like a car."

"I didn't hear anything."

Not answering, she drifted toward the window, stood there a moment, stiffly, "Someone's here."

Inexplicably, Jack's heart started to beat a little faster. There'd been too much drama lately to take the news lightly. "Maybe…they're just lost." He glanced at the clock. It was ten thirty. Who would drop by unexpectedly like this.

My father. Sawyer. Sayid…

He realized for the first time that there might be a lot of people showing up at random.

The car outside lingered a moment, and then pulled away.

Jack breathed a sight of relief.

"Guess it was just-"

The doorbell rang suddenly, stopping the relief short.

Kate turned to look at him, eyes sort of worried, and they just stared at each other a second.

The bell rang two more times, a little sporadically.

At last, Jack muttered, "I'll get it." It was better than putting Kate in danger. He walked toward the door, listening carefully, wondering who to expect on the other side, and then, slowly, he opened it, just a little. "Hello?"

"Jack!"

"Hurley?" He was so startled to see Hurley on the other side of the door that he couldn't even move for a few seconds. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story, Dude, can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Jack pushed the door the rest of the way open and looked at his fiancée, "Look who it is, Kate."

She looked just as startled as he felt. "Hurley? What's going on?"

"Uh, nothin', just a little… Nothin'."

"I thought you were in the hospital." Jack shut the door and watched Hurley come into the room, glancing back and forth like he expected to see danger. He didn't have any luggage or even a coat. It was weird.

"I just got out today."

"Really? That's good news. Make yourself at home."

Kate asked, "Do you want anything to drink."

"No thanks, Dude. I'm sorry to show up like this, but…uh, it was like, sort of an emergency."

Jack didn't like hearing that. The last thing they needed was another emergency. "What kind of emergency?"

Hurley hesitated, and it almost looked like he was listening to someone, and then he turned to him, shrugging a little. "I just needed a place to crash for a while. This was the first place I thought of."

"What about your house?"

"I can't go home right now."

"But-"

"Dude, just do me a favor and don't ask any questions. Please."

Jack stared at Hurley, wondering why he couldn't go home and what it was he was hiding, but he knew it would be a waste of time to ask, so he just nodded, "Fine. All right, we won't. You can tell us when you're ready."

Hurley nodded. There was something about the look in his eyes that bothered Jack—like he was afraid of something. Maybe he'd escaped from the hospital or something.

"Well," Kate said, breaking the uneasy silence, "I'll go up and get the guest room ready for you."

"Thanks, Kate."

She smiled, touching his arm as she passed, "No problem."

Both men waited until she was gone, and then Hurley lumbered over and sank onto the couch. He said something to himself, but Jack didn't catch what it was.

More awkward silence filled the room. It had been years since Jack had seen Hurley, and he wasn't sure what to make of him just showing up like this. It was weird that so many people from his past were just reappearing so nonchalantly. It made him wonder if something was about to go wrong.

He was just about to ask Hurley how he'd been when Hurley looked up casually, "So, Dude, you seen Sawyer lately?"

"Sawyer? Yeah. A little. I mean, he… he's been around."

Hurley nodded, "How's he been?"

"He seemed all right."

Nodding again, Hurley was quiet a while. Was it a coincidence he was asking about Sawyer, or had he run into him as well?

"How about Sayid? Seen him at all?"

Jack was silent a minute. Could _that_ be a coincidence? If Hurley had seen both Sayid and Sawyer recently did that have something to do with him showing up here today?

"Actually, yeah. I saw Sayid earlier today."

"Was he alone?"

"…Yeah."

Hurley was quiet again. He mumbled a little more, then studied the vase on the glass coffee table like it was extremely interesting.

"You okay, Hurley?"

"What? Yeah, Dude. I'm fine. Just…had sort of a weird day. Maybe I'll tell you about it later. Right now I'm just tired."

"Sure. I understand."

After that they were quiet until Kate came back, announcing that the room was ready, and then Hurley got up, thanked her again and started to go upstairs.

"I'm sorry we don't have anything for you to sleep in," Kate said, "but there should be an extra toothbrush up their in the medicine cabinet.

When he was gone, Jack sat down, trying to figure out what had brought him here in the first place, and what it had to do with Sayid and Sawyer.

Kate sat down beside her fiancé, looking a little bothered, "What do you think he's doing here?"

Jack shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Do you think he's okay?"

Again he wondered if he should tell her about the events from earlier today, about Sayid and the questions Hurley had asked, but in the end he decided that as long as he didn't know anything for sure, there was no point in scaring her. So he just smiled half-heartedly and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead.

He said, "I'm sure everything's fine." Even though he was sure that everything was slowly coming apart.

**Hi everyone!**

**I felt bad about sort of slacking on this for the last month or however long it's been, and since Wednesday marked the end of Lost season 5 I thought I'd crank out another chapter for this week! ******** hope you liked it.**

**I'm bummed that Lost is over for the season, and I HATE having to wait for a whole year before we get to find out what happens, and even though I never thought I'd say this, I'm sorry Juliet died (of course knowing Lost she may or may not stay dead), so in light of all that, I'm going to try to make this story last as long as I can, and do my best to update every week, even though my life is pretty busy these days. I've got quite a few more ideas, so I hope everyone likes long stories!**

**Thanks for all the reads and reviews—you guys kick ass!**

**- Suta**


	11. Chapter 11

"Korea?" Sawyer rubbed his head. It felt like he'd been run over by a damn freight train, but he knew it wasn't a hangover this time. "You want me to go to _Korea_, Boss?"

Christian poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and took a sip before answering, "Yes. Last night Hudson was here to cover the 'bad cop' role, but the truth is I'm pretty upset with you for letting Reyez get away. It was extremely careless, James, and I'm not sure you really understand the direness of the circumstances. After all, we have no idea where Reyez is or who he's with, and if that means he falls into the hands of Charles Widmore that's on you."

Sawyer didn't reply. He still thought it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Christian about Sayid.

Loveless looked at them both, then said, "Do you think Reyez' disappearance has to do with the third party Hudson alluded to?"

Christian nodded, "It's not impossible. But I have no way to be sure."

"Do you think we'll find answers in Korea?"

"No. I think we'll find Kwon in Korea."

Loveless looked confused. "What's Kwon?"

"She," Sawyer said irritably, "is the last member of the Oceanic Seven."

"Ohh." Loveless nodded, "And you think we should go get her before this third party does?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, Skipper." Sawyer said automatically. "I think it's best ta' leave Sun right where she is."

"Originally that's what I thought too," Christian started to pace, drinking more orange juice, "but in light of the fact that you lost Reyez, I think it's safe to say that whoever took Reyez might go after Sun as well. Don't you agree, Ford?"

"Maybe not." Sawyer muttered. It was hard to picture Sayid trekking halfway around the world just to find one member of the O7 when all the others were right here in LA. Could this just be Christians pass at getting all seven of them together?

"Well, unfortunately, whether you agree or not, I'm in charge of the investigation, and I do think that."

"But think about it. If we bring Kwon over here all of the Oceanic Seven'll be pretty much in the same place. Do we really want that?"

"Of course we do."

Sawyer stared at him. Had he been wrong about Christian? Was Ben telling the truth-for once? "What for?"

"It'll be easier to keep an eye on them if they're in close proximity to each other." Christian shrugged.

"It'll also be easier for the enemy ta' kill 'em off!" Sawyer said, raising his voice a little. "There's no way I'm gonna' go get Sun if-"

Suddenly, Christian stepped forward and grabbed Sawyer's arm a little threateningly, eyes burning, and hissed, "James, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're in no position to be disobeying orders. Am I right?"

Sawyer glared at him, "I ain't disobeyin' orders. But-"

"But _nothing_, James. I warned you about Hudson last night, so unless you want to be on your back in a morgue here in a few days you'd better get your ass in gear, shut your mouth, and do what I tell you."

Still glaring, Sawyer stared back at Christian. There was no arguing with something like that—Christian was right, whether or not he could trust him, and the only thing to do was to follow orders.

_Like a good boy._

Sawyer wrenched away, "When do we leave?"

"That's what I like to hear." Christian released him and got out a ticket, voice still cold, "I trust you have a passport. You're boarding Oceanic flight 520 at three this afternoon. I'd pack a bag if I were you."

Reluctantly, Sawyer took the ticket. "It had ta' be Oceanic…"

Loveless checked his watch, "That doesn't give us much time. I'd better run home and get a few things."

"You're not going, Loveless." Christian said coolly.

"Why not, sir?"

"I have a different job for you to do while Ford is away—you'll drive him to the airport this afternoon, but Agent Muff will be going with him to Korea."

Sawyer could see how disappointed Loveless was, but the kid just nodded and said, "Of course sir."

Christian nodded back, "Very good. Now then, boys, I'll see you at the airport in a few hours." He pointed at Sawyer, "Travel light." Then he drained the last swallow of orange juice, slipped on his sports coat, and went out through the garage door, and a minute later an engine roared to life, and Sawyer heard the garage door going up. He waited until the engine was far away before he sighed and looked at Loveless, "Tough boss."

"I wonder what he has for me to do while you're gone."

"Probably lookin' for Reyez or somethin'." Sawyer tucked the plane ticket into his pocket.

"Agent Ford, I have a question."

"Figures. What is it? It better be important."

"Maybe I shoulda' asked the chief, but…I've been thinking. So far we know where Shephard, Austen and her baby are. Now we're looking for Reyez and Kwon. That only makes five."

"Damn, you're good at math."

"So who are the other two? You said that if we bring Kwon here they'll all be together, so the other two have to be in LA too, right? Who are they?"

A little surprised, Sawyer turned to Loveless, but he couldn't see past his sunglasses. "You're right." He snorted. "Ya' shoulda' asked the chief."

"Don't you know?"

"Nope. I just do what I'm told." Sawyer started to walk away, wanting to get away from the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Not all the time."

"What's that s'posed ta' mean?"

"You argue with Agent Shephard a lot more often than anyone else does." From the sound of things, Loveless was following him upstairs. Maybe the conversation would be harder to get out of than he'd first thought.

"I'm just sorta' rebellious, I guess. Didn't get enough attention as a kid, or somethin'."

"Level with me, James," Loveless slid around Sawyer and got in front of him, looking serious, "who are the last two members of the Oceanic Seven?"

"I just told ya', kid, I ain't gotta' clue. Now get the hell outta' my way. I don't got time for this."

"You're one of them. Aren't you." It wasn't a question. Not even close.

Sawyer wondered when he'd figured it out, and how.

_Now we better hope we can trust this kid._

"Why the hell would ya' think that _I'm_ one of that Oceanic Seven?"

Loveless shrugged, "Just some little things. The way you talk about them all on a first-name basis. How you know so much. I mean, you're such a key-component in this case…you've got to be _someone_ important. There are a lot of agents who are better qualified than you." He added, a little quickly, "Not saying you're not a good agent or anything—I mean, you're great with a gun, and you're smart. I'd follow you anywhere, but-"

"Stow your butt-kissin', Love. I ain't one of the goddamn Oceanic Seven. Got it?" Roughly, Sawyer pushed him to the side, "Now get the hell outta' my way." He kept going up the stairs, but this time Loveless didn't follow him.

"Well, Sayid," Ben sighed, setting his newspaper aside and taking his glasses off. "You let him get away."

"I?" Sayid sneered. "He ran because he saw you—because he doesn't trust you."

"Neither do you." Ben looked at him poignantly.

"Of course not. How can I? You're not trustworthy!"

"Whether or not I can be trusted is of little importance, Sayid. What _is_ important is that Reyez got away, and now he's…well, we don't know where he is, do we? And that's precisely the problem. Widmore's men are out there-some of them disguised as friends-and Hugo Reyez is wandering the streets of LA alone. We both know Hugo can't possibly keep a secret. What do you think is going to happen when Widmore picks him up."

Sayid stiffened at the idea, but he kept looking at Ben, unable to hide his hatred.

"So now that you understand the magnitude of your mistake, just how exactly do you intend to redeem yourself?"

Sayid hesitated a moment; he thought again that Hurley escaping might have been for the best. He hated getting any of his friends involved with Benjamin Linus, and so far two of them had avoided that, one way or another. Yes, Charles Widmore was still a potential threat, but if Hurley could find some place safe to go where Widmore wouldn't find him, then he'd be in the clear. Still, he knew the answer that was expected of him.

"I suppose I have no choice but to go and find him."

Ben shook his head, a little disappointed, and smeared some jam on a piece of toast. "I'm afraid we don't have time for that, Sayid. As we speak, Agent Ford is preparing himself to take a little plane trip over to South Korea. He's going to pick up Sun Kwon while he's there and bring her back to CIA headquarters; and then of course, she'll be in danger of falling into Widmore's hands."

Sayid stared at him, wondering how he'd come to obtain that information, but he'd learned long ago that there was no point in asking Ben questions like that.

"Unfortunately he has the advantage of working for the CIA, but maybe if you hurry and get on a flight that leaves before his you'll be able to reach Sun first."

"And if I don't?"

Ben looked at him again, "They're _your_ friends, Sayid. You're the one who loses if something happens to them."

"And what about you and your precious island?" Sayid snarled, unable to keep the anger from overflowing in his voice.

"Undoubtedly, if you mess up again and Widmore does get his hands on Kwon-or Reyez for that matter-it will cause me a good deal of trouble. But as always, I have a back-up plan. Now are you up for going to Korea or not?"

Sayid's mind raced for a moment as he thought of Sun being in potential danger. "How do you know Sawyer is working for Widmore? He's one of the Oceanic Seven—if Widmore is really using him then he wouldn't need to go after the others."

"I never said Sawyer is working for Widmore. Sawyer's _superior_ is working for Widmore, and Sawyer is following his every order, whether out of trust or fear I have no idea. The point is, as long as Sawyer is working for the enemy he can't be trusted. So, the obvious thing to do," Ben wiped his mouth with his napkin and got up, reaching into his back pocket and getting out some documents, "is to keep the remaining members of the Oceanic Seven away from him. Don't you agree?"

Sayid looked down and saw that Ben was holding two plane tickets. One round trip and another one-way.

He balked, looking for another excuse, "What if Sawyer gets to her first?"

"Sayid, for the sake of Sun and every other member of the Oceanic Seven, if Agent Ford gets in your way…"

Sayid closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, already knowing what was coming next.

Ben said simply, "Kill him."

Reluctantly, Sayid took the tickets, wanting with ever fiber of his being to refuse the mission. But there was no choice left to him.

"And Sayid. You had better not come back here alone."

Sawyer looked up at the tall apartment building, squinting a little in the sunlight. He'd just gotten off the longest plane ride of his life, and now he was exhausted, but there was no time to check into a hotel to rest. He had to go in, somehow convince Sun to go with him back to the States, and get right back on a plane.

"What a way ta' make a livin'." He muttered.

"Beats pushing a broom." Muff reminded him stoically.

Sawyer glanced at his companion. Muff looked like a typical CIA agent to him, cool and in charge, ready to make tough decisions, but he'd rather have Loveless with him, even though he hadn't always felt that way. Loveless was just a kid, easy to sneak around, but Muff had obviously been sent to Korea with him so he could keep an eye on him. Not a comforting realization.

"Well, Ford, how do you feel about Seoul?"

"Just great." Sawyer muttered.

So far he didn't like the city. It was huge, and the people were short, and everyone was yammering in a language he didn't understand, and it made him think about Jin and about the fact that he was dead now. Or maybe he just felt that way because he was tired.

"Down to business." Muff said, checking his watch. "Mrs. Kwon lives on the eleventh floor with her daughter; she gets home from work every day at about five thirty, which means she's been home now for about a half-hour. She should be done with changing and winding down and getting ready to make dinner. It's the perfect time to grab her, since she won't be expecting it."

"I ain't grabbin' nobody." Sawyer snapped. "I'm gonna' convince her ta' come with me."

"Sure you are. And how are you going to do that?"

"Leme' worry about that, Tanto, you just keep the car running."

Muff laughed a little. "Tanto! Christian would like that one."

"I've been meanin' ta' try it out on Hudson." Sawyer muttered.

"Oooh, I just might pay to see that."

"Hell, I'd do it for free."

"Seriously, Ford, be careful what you say to Hudson. He's bad news."

"Yeah, yeah, I already got the low down."

"Looks like it. Got your gun?"

"Got it. Don't know what I'll need it for, but I got it."

"You never know. Now, synchronize watches. Annnd you ready?"

"Just keep the car running." Sawyer said again. He made sure his coat was hiding his gun, and then he ran across the street.

Muff called after him, "If you're not back in ten minutes I'm coming in after you!"

Sawyer rolled his eyes a little. The way Muff was acting you would have thought he was infiltrating an enemy base, not kidnapping a Korean woman.

He went into the apartment lobby, leaving his sunglasses on and trying to look like he belonged there. Without a word to anybody, he got on the elevator and went up to the eleventh floor, trying to think as he went of a way to convince Sun to go with him to LA. And that would be much harder said than done, especially if she had a daughter to take care of.

By the time he got to the eleventh floor, he had a half-assed idea together, but past experiences had taught him that that was all he'd need to convince Sun that it was in her best interest to go with him, without mentioning the CIA business right off the bat. Still, he wasn't sure what should be done with her daughter, but that too would likely come in the spur of the moment.

He got off the elevator and walked down the hall with a confident swagger, all too aware of the gun riding on his hip, wondering what in the world he'd need it for.

Slowly, he approached Sun's door, stood there a few seconds longer than he should have before knocking.

There were a few minutes of silence, but before he could knock again he heard someone moving around inside, and a woman's voice called out in Korean.

It sounded like Sun.

A second later, the door opened just a little and Sun put her head out. Her eyes getting wide at once, "Sawyer?"

He slipped into a smile that had charmed dozens of women before Sun, "Hey there."

"What are you doing here?" She smiled back, opening the door just a bit wider. "I haven't seen you in so long—did you come all this way just to visit me?"

"Somethin' like that. Mind if I come in?"

"Of course. I have company, but if you don't mind that, you're welcome."

"I don't mind at all." Sawyer kept smiling, but inside the news of her having someone over distressed him. He'd have to find some way to talk to her alone. "Hey, I never got a chance to meet your daughter. Maybe today's the lucky day."

"I'm afraid not." Sun led the way toward the living room, "She's visiting with her grandparents today."

Sawyer noticed a man's leather jacket hanging on a nearby coat rack. So Sun had male company. This could be awkward. "That's too bad. I was lookin' forward to it." He said, mostly to keep the small talk rolling as he re-thought his strategy. He only had another seven minutes before Muff came up, guns blazing.

"Somethin' sure smells good." He added, walking toward the kitchen.

"Yes. I was just making dinner."

"For you and your friend?"

"Actually, just for myself. He showed up unexpectedly as well." She turned around to give him a thoughtful look, "Didn't you two come together?"

That shocked Sawyer, "What'dya' mean?"

Sun didn't have to answer, because a second later, Sayid came around the corner, dressed casually, face hard and blank.

Sawyer stared at him. _Sonnova bitch._

"Hello again, Sawyer."

Sun was still smiling, "He came just a few minutes before you—did you really not come together?"

"No. We sure didn't." This ruined everything. Sayid had somehow known that he was coming to get Sun and had managed to arrive before him. How in the world was he going to convince her to go with him now.

_I've still got the gun._

But what good would it do? He didn't want to shoot anyone. Especially not Sayid.

"Hey, Sayid." He tried to smile. "What brings _you_ to this part o' the world?"

"I fear it may be the same thing that brought you, my friend."

"What the pretty Korean girls?"

"Yes. Of course." Sayid's voice was terribly quiet. "The lovely Korean women."

"Ya' don't say." Sawyer paced the room, noticing a portrait of Jin on the mantle. Next to it was a picture of a young Korean girl who looked just like him.

Sayid turned back to Sun. "Sun, I'd like to continue our previous conversation. Privately. If you don't mind."

"Privately?" She glanced at Sawyer, then back at Sayid. "Why? What's going on?"

"I just feel that privately would be better. Unless you have some objection."

"No. Of course not. Sawyer, please excuse us."

Sawyer watched Sayid start to lead Sun out of the room, and knew he had to stop him. If there was a back door to this place or something, it would be easy for Sayid to spirit her away. "Wait a minute, Sayid. Whatever ya' have ta' say to the lady, you can say it in front of me."

"No, I'm afraid not, Friend."

"Then maybe ya' shouldn't say it at all."

Sayid's eyes narrowed, "Sawyer, please don't make this difficult."

"Difficult's my middle name, Mohammad. Now give it up."

"Give what up?" Sun demanded. "What's going on? Why are you two here?"

"'Cause Sun," Sawyer knew there wasn't time to waste on strategy. He had to get Sun out of here before Muff came up and shot Sayid. Or worse. "I need ya' to come back to the US with me."

"To America? But why?"

"I'll explain on the way."

"That's the same thing Sayid told me—why don't I just go with both of you?"

"All right, fine," better to give her what she wanted than hash out the details right there. "Both of us." He gave Sayid a harsh look.

"Well, give me some time to pack. And what about my daughter? What is this all about anyway?"

"Call gramma and grandpa and tell 'em ta' hold onto the kid for a little while. There's no time to explain right now."

"Hold on a minute, Sun," Sayid grabbed her arm, "Before we proceed, there's something very important you should know: this man cannot be trusted."

Sawyer gave him a dirty look.

Sun looked confused, "What? Sawyer? What do you mean he can't be trusted?"

"Unfortunately, it's true. He's working for Charles Widmore."

Sun stared up into Sawyer's eyes, a sudden look of uncertainty entering her face, "What?"

"You dirty sonnuva bitch!"

"If you go with him now, he will take you to Widmore. But if you come with me I can take you somewhere safe."

"Sayid-"

"Why would Sawyer be working for Charles Widmore?"

"Who knows? Money, I'm sure."

"Now wait just a damn minute, Sayid-"

"Sun, I'm afraid Widmore has been hunting all of us, and likely has this very building surrounded even now. But if you hurry and come with me, I can protect you."

She stood there, not moving, looking between Sawyer and Sayid, as if deciding who she should listen to. "But…"

"There's no time to waste. Pack only what you absolutely need, and hurry."

"Don't listen to him, Sun—he's the one who can't be trusted!"

Sun's eyes got a little hard, "How do I know I can trust either of you?"

"If you come with me," Sayid continued, "there's a chance that you'll be reunited with Jin."

She spun around, focusing on him completely, "Jin?"

"Hey, Sayid, that's dirty!" Sawyer shouted angrily.

"What do you know about my husband, Sayid?"

"There's no time to explain, but if you come with me I'll tell you."

"Don't listen to him, Sun! Jin is dead!"

She looked quietly at Sawyer, and then back at Sayid, "I'll just be a moment." With that, she went past him and into the bed room.

Sawyer walked over and got in Sayid's face, "What the hell d'ya think you're doin', Sayid? You know as well as I do that Jin is-"

"If I were you, Sawyer, I'd just leave. You've clearly lost."

Angrily, Sawyer glared at him, remembering what Christian had said to him at the airport.

_You already lost Reyez, James. If you fail to bring Sun back, well…God help you._

"You're the one workin' for Widmore." He snapped.

"I'm doing no such thing. Now for the last time, leave immediately. I don't want to have to hurt you."

Sun poked her head around the corner, "Would one of you mind turning the stove off?"

Sawyer kept glaring at Sayid, and then he made his way toward the kitchen, muttering, "Like you could."

He turned the stove off, and then stood there thinking for a while, trying to come up with some way to get Sun away from Sayid without hurting either of them. With any luck, Muff would arrive soon and the two of them would be able to do something. The only problem was, Muff wouldn't have any qualms about hurting or even shooting Sayid, and Sawyer wanted to avoid that at any cost.

A bit later, he heard Sun talking in Korean, probably on the phone, and went back into the living room. Sayid was standing by the door, his jacket on. Sun had a small travel bag with her. It was awfully light traveling for a woman.

Sun put the phone down.

Sawyer checked his watch. It had been over ten minutes. Where the hell was Muff?

"I'm ready to go." Sun told Sayid, hefting her bag over her shoulder.

"Of course; after you." He started to open the door.

This was Sawyer's last chance. If he went back to LA without Sun he didn't know what would happen. If he could just distract Sayid long enough for Muff to arrive it might turn out all right.

A little desperately, he rushed Sayid and hit him with the full force of his body, knocking him down flat and bumping a nearby table. A vase fell off and broke. Sun screamed in surprised.

Sawyer and Sayid rolled over and over on the floor, trying to pin each other, punching each other when they were able, dragging each other down the moment one got up. Sawyer knew it was a futile fight—Sayid was a trained soldier, and he was a street tough. No matter how well he could fight or how determined he was, chances were, Sayid was going to win.

"Stop it!" Sun shouted. "Stop it right now!"

Sawyer managed to get on top, pinning Sayid down the best he could and failing. "Sayid listen to me!"

Sayid headbutted him.

Sawyer fell back, cursing. Another blow hit him in the chin while he was distracted. He flew backwards and landed roughly, feeling blood flowing from his mouth.

Furious, he sprang up again and went at Sayid, catching him in the gut.

The Iraqi kicked his legs out from under him. Sawyer hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

When he rolled over he was looking down the barrel of a small hand gun with a silencer on it.

Sun cried, "Sayid, what are you doing? Stopit!"

Sayid's eyes were hard as two pieces of coal.

Breathing hard, Sawyer glared up at him, "Do it. I dare ya'."

"I'm not going to shoot you, Sawyer. Even though maybe I should."

"Yeah, maybe ya' should, 'cause if I get half the chance ta' shoot _you_ I'm takin' it."

"Then I'll make sure you don't get the chance."

"Big words."

"Good night, Sawyer."

With that, Sayid pistol whipped him on the side of the head, and Sawyer slumped over, unconscious.

He came too a few minutes later when someone shook him and called his name. Moaning, he opened his eyes, "Muff?"

Muff was kneeling next to him, looking concerned, "You all right, partner? Looks like a bull trampled you."

"I'm great." Sawyer snorted. "Kwon?"

"She's gone. What happened?"

"Our third party beat us here."

Muff's eyebrows knit together. "So there really is a third party? What did they look like?"

"Just one. Damn Arabs."

"An Arab."

"Fucking bastard." Sawyer muttered, more to himself than to Muff, sitting up and rubbing his head, only to discover there was blood streaming down the side of his face and neck. "Where th' hell were _you_ anyway? Thought ya' said ten minutes? We synchronized our damn watches and ev'rything."

Muff rolled his eyes. I got on the elevator with a group of damn kids—they thought it would be funny to press every button and stop on every floor. Hey, you gonna' be okay, Ford? You really look like you got trashed."

"Let's just get th' hell outta' here."

"Don't you even want to go to the hospital or something?"

"Naw. I just wanna' go home."


	12. Chapter 12

"Where the hell is Kwon?" Christian demanded sternly.

Sawyer held the ice to the side of his head as he walked forward, Loveless hanging onto his arm like he was trying to support him. "Got away."

"What?"

Shephard sounded truly angry, but Sawyer was too tired and in too much pain to care.

"I told you. I gave explicit orders to bring her back-"

"Yeah. I know, I know, Hutch. God help me."

"Well do you mind telling me where she is?"

"Go easy on him, sir." Muff advised in a soft tone, "It's not his fault—those Arabs really worked him over."

Christian's forehead creased, "Arabs?"

"Yes sir. How many did you say there were, Ford?"

"A whole damn army." Sawyer muttered, even though he knew Christian might realize it had been Sayid; he really couldn't care less right then. He pulled away from Loveless and sank down in the couch, suppressing a moan.

"Were they CIA agents or working for someone else?"

"Somethin' else."

"And they took Kwon."

"Best I can tell."

"Well _where_ did they take her, James?"

"I-"  
"You were given a simple order, a simple task, and you couldn't even complete it. Don't you understand what's going to happen if Widmore-"

"Yeah. I got it, all right? I know. But I don't think the Arabs are takin' her to Widmore."

"And why is that?"

"'Cause they told her that _I'm_ working for Widmore. It just doesn't make much sense to me." He sighed and closed his eyes.

The other three looked at him for a second, and then Loveless asked, "What now, sir?"

"Now." Christian started to pace, one hand in his pocket, the other stirring his scotch, "Now the two of you should leave and let me talk to Ford alone."

Muff and Loveless stayed where they were, exchanging glances.

"Please."

Muff nodded. "Yes sir." He headed for the garage. "I'll go back to headquarters and see if anyone found out anything."

"Thank-you. And take Loveless with you."

Loveless hesitated a little longer, looking at Sawyer, biting his lip a little, like he was worried.

"Beat it." Sawyer snapped.

Reluctantly the young agent followed Muff out.

As soon as they were gone, Christian sat down on the edge of the table, kicking back a little booze before speaking, "You know, James, I don't think you're being fully honest with me about what happened."

"What would I lie ta' you for?"

"I'm not sure. I would like to know something though—about these Arabs that attacked you. One of them wouldn't have happened to be Sayid Jarral, would they?"

"How'd ya' guess?"

"He's one of the Oceanic Seven," Christian shrugged, "so we've been monitoring him of course. He was in Korea at the same time you were."

"Yep. That's my buddy Sayid, workin' for th' other side." Sawyer got up and stumbled toward the kitchen to dump the partially melted icepack in the sink. He grabbed a beer while he was there, rubbing it against his temple for a second before opening it.

Christian followed him, "The only question is, who is this other side?"

"Beats the hell outta' me."

"Obviously. God, you really look like crap, kid. You ought to be more careful."

"I'll log that away." Sawyer took a harsh swig of beer. "So God help me. What now?"

"Well, in light of the circumstances, I may be obliged to let you off the hook-for now at least-and see how bad the damage is."

Sawyer snorted, "Well ain't that sweet of ya'?"

"Not really. You know you're the one who's going to have to go after Sayid."

"What?" Sawyer opened his eyes wide. "Go after Sayid? What the hell're ya' talkin' about, Boss?"

"He's one of the Oceanic Seven, and if he's gathering the others that means he must be planning something—or working for someone who's planning something. The most obvious course of action is to arrest him immediately. Unfortunately, the best candidate for that is you-since you know him personally-"

"Sayid'll never come with me, Christian. Don't care what I tell him."

"Please don't interrupt me, James." Christian said, a little icily. "As I was saying, you're obviously the best candidate for bringing Sayid in, but that being said, you're in no shape to do it. Why don't you take tomorrow off and rest?"

"Great." Sawyer mumbled. He took another swig from the bottle before slamming it down and starting to walk away.

Christian caught him by the arm, "Just one more thing, kiddo. About Sayid—he's the one who took Reyez, isn't he?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Oh you know all right. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me that in the first place. Don't you trust me?"

Sawyer didn't answer.

Christian tightened his grip a little, "You must know I only have the best for you-and all of the Oceanic Seven-in mind. Hell, James, Jack Shephard is my son. Why would I let anything happen to him?"

Still there wasn't no way to reply—he didn't want to have this conversation right now anyway.

"If we're going to be working together, you have to trust me."

Christian gave him such a firm, cool look, Sawyer knew he had to answer, "I trust ya', Scotch." He said vaguely, and then pulled away and went upstairs.

When he got to his room he finally released the sigh he'd been strangling, felt vague pain in his chest from the breath. God, everything hurt. His chest, his stomach, shoulders, neck, absolutely everything. Sayid had really kicked his ass—whatever he was up to, he wasn't wasting any time showing sympathy to anyone, not even an old friend. That meant he _really_ believed Sawyer was the enemy.

"Just my luck."

Rubbing his shoulder, Sawyer walked across the room to the window and pried the blinds open a little to see out. He had a nice view of the street, a good location to watch Jack and Kate from. Good for the job. Bad for the heart.

First of all, it was hard enough to watch them in their house together, to see their bedroom light go off at night, to wonder if they were making love…

On top of that, it made it seem like he was just a bystander, watching someone else's life, vicarious to the fact that they were his friends and that they were in danger. Hell, at any moment the double agents could make a move, or whoever Sayid was working for; at any given second they could storm Jack's house and kill or capture everyone inside. Christian's little crew was doing everything they could, but Sawyer got the feeling that there weren't enough of them. All of his friends' lives were hanging on the edge of a knife, and for some reason he was the only one who could protect them.

And at the same time, Hudson had him on the ropes, and more and more he was feeling like Christian Shephard was backing him into a corner.

It was early morning, the dawn's light still slightly gray, the sun rising orange-pink in the east, and Jack's house looked abandoned. The doc was probably already off to work, Kate was probably still sleeping.

What he wouldn't give to go over there and knock on the door and tell her everything. Maybe she could help him figure out this whole nasty mess. She'd always been good at that—very level headed and smart.

But if anyone saw them together it might not be hard to connect the dots, and if anyone found out he was one of the oceanic seven it could be dangerous, not just for him, but Kate and the others too. He hadn't forgotten how much trouble he'd gotten into for just taking her a donut, so swinging by her house just to visit was out of the question to say the least.

There was nothing to do but keep watch and hope that Christian knew what he was doing.

With a sigh, Sawyer flopped back on the bed, fell asleep looking at the ceiling and thinking about Kate. Maybe if he pictured her face long enough he could dream about her.

And then of course wake feeling empty.

When he got up a few hours later it was almost noon, and his body ached even worse. For a while he just lay there, thinking, trying to block out the pain, but it was steadily throbbing, and he was starting to feel nauseous.

Finally, he forced himself to roll off the bed, moaning, and checked out the window again. Both cars in Jack's driveway were gone. Kate must have taken Aaron somewhere.

Hopefully Loveless was tailing her.

Still groaning, Sawyer headed downstairs. He was going to take a handful of aspirin and go back to bed. After all, here in a few days he was going to be in charge of a man hunt for Sayid, and since Sayid had been the one to put him in this condition it made sense to gather as much strength as he could. And this time, if it came to a fight, he wasn't going to go easy on him. He was going to knock him flat on his ass, hogtie him and drag him back to headquarters. Screw being Mr. Nice Guy.

For the next few minutes, Sawyer went through every medicine cabinet in the house, looking relentlessly for any kind of painkiller, but the house was ill-equipped, and he didn't find anything strong enough to make the pain go away. The house was empty too—Loveless and Muff were probably tailing either Jack or Kate, and Christian was God knew where. Conspiring somewhere.

He toyed with the idea of running to the nearest grocery store and picking up a bottle of aspirin, but that probably wasn't smart—he didn't know where Kate was, and if he ran into her around here it would mean more trouble.

Instead, he opened a beer and sat down at the kitchen table to brood a while. As he sat there, he noticed the garbage can was overflowing and snorted at it. Obviously no one else felt inclined to take care of it. So he finished off the beer and tossed the can, then got up to drag the heavy bag of trash outside. Normally it wasn't smart to go out front and risk Jack or Kate seeing him, but it should be okay, as long as the house across the street was empty.

"I'm just running to the grocery store, so I should be back in a few hours."

"Okay, Dude."

Kate looked at Hurley. She was so pretty—he'd always thought she was really pretty, but then, he'd always known that he didn't have a chance with her. "You want me to pick anything up for you?"

"Oh, no thanks."

She nodded a little, and smiled, but the smile seemed strained. Both Jack and Kate had seemed to be acting weird since he'd come, but he had no idea why. Maybe it had to do with Ben and Sayid and Sawyer. But if it did, they weren't saying anything about it.

"All right then." She turned toward the door, taking Aaron by the hand. "Jack should be home around five thirty, but I'll be back by then. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Kate." He said quietly.

With one last bright flash of her white teeth, she was out the door and a few minutes later he heard her engine start.

"Check it out, Mate." Phantom Charlie said from his place at the window.

Reluctantly, Hurley got up off the couch and went to stand beside him, "What is it, Dude?"

Kat was just pulling out of the driveway in her silver car. She noticed him watching and smiled, waving. She said something to Aaron and the little boy waved too. Hurley waved back and watched them go. "I don't see anything-"

"Just watch."

Just a few moments after Kate had pulled away, the garage door to the house across the street suddenly opened, and sleek, black car pulled out, turned the same way Kate had gone, and sped down the road after her. Hurley only caught a glimpse of the driver, but he looked young, wearing sunglasses and a very spiffy suit. The same way Sawyer had been dressed the other night.

Charlie and Hurley were both quiet a moment, and then Charlie said, "I find that just a touch odd, don't you?"

"Hey, he wasn't necessarily following her, Dude. It could just be, like, I dunno', a coincidence or somethin'."

"With all the activity that's been goin' on in that place? I doubt it, Hurley."

He had a good point. Hurley had been woken early in the morning by a car pulling in across the street, and the lights had stayed on for a good hour afterward. Then a car had left. A few hours after that, Jack leaving for work had disturbed Hurley again, and he'd sat up to see yet another car pulling out of the driveway across the street. A different car, seemingly following Jack. And all morning after he'd gotten out of bed, there had been the same white car in and out of there, disappearing and reappearing at random intervals. Now this black car, leaving at the exact same time as Kate. Could it be just a coincidence?  
It was eleven thirty now. Maybe it would be smart to keep an eye on the house across the street. After all, so far there was no indication that the activity could be attributed to either Ben or Sayid, but there was no guarantee that it wasn't, and so far Hurley was the only one who knew-if the others did they weren't mentioning it-so it was up to him to anticipate a strike. He was the first line of defense.

So he went to the fridge and got out some leftover take out that was probably a few days old, poured himself a glass of Pepsi-it was a little flat, so he suspected it was leftover from a party or something-and went to plant himself in front of the TV, balancing his attention between the normal, mid-day crap and the house across the street.

Charlie sat up on the back of the couch, making jokes and comments about what they saw on the television, but he seemed totally distracted from any possibility of a threat from the people living across the street.

For a long time, the neighborhood was quiet. It was a Monday afternoon, so everyone was at work, and all the kids were at school. It was a slow, sunny day, and after Hurley had eaten he started to feel tired. TV was boring, and he felt himself drifting off, no matter how many times he reminded himself that he should be keeping an eye on the house across the street. For a while, the inane chatter of phantom Charlie kept him awake, but then Charlie disappeared completely, and there was nothing to keep Hurley awake at all.

Finally, his eyelids were so heavy, and the house was so peaceful and comfortable, he simply couldn't stay awake any longer, so he abandoned all of his qualms and worries, and fell asleep.

It seemed like just a second later when something woke him up, and he sat up straight on the couch, nearly knocking his empty plate onto the floor. Hurley looked around, blinking and confused. The house was still, no sign of Jack or Kate or Aaron, the clock said twenty after twelve, so he hadn't even slept for an hour. He sat quietly, listening, but all he could hear was the ticking of the clock above the entertainment center.

"Charlie?"

His ghosty friend was no where to be found. He wondered where he went when he wasn't here in the real world. That was a ridiculous thought though—phantom Charlie was just a product of his sick mind, he didn't come and go freely. He didn't exist at all.

Yawning, Hurley decided it didn't matter what had woken him up. Maybe he just hadn't been sleeping very deeply. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms before picking up his dishes to take them into the kitchen. Maybe if he could, he'd run a load, just so he wouldn't be a burden on his friends.

He was about to turn the TV off and go into the kitchen when he saw the front door across the street swing open and a man stepped out into the sun, rubbing his head a little and carrying a large, white garbage bag.

"Dude, how many people live over there?" Hurley muttered. There was the black car that followed Kate, the silver one that went after Jack left earlier, and the white one that came and went periodically. He didn't see a sign of any of them, and yet there was still another person over there.

Phantom Charlie was suddenly over his shoulder again, "Quite the weird little fam'ly they got over there, eh, Mate?"

Hurley didn't answer. He was busy watching the figure across the street as the man took the trash down to the end of the driveway. Something about him, the way the moved and swaggered, the way he turned his head as he went, it was all so familiar, but Hurley couldn't quiet place it. He walked with such confidence and such casual arrogance, it almost looked like…

"No way, Dude. What is he doing over there?"

"Sawyer?" Charlie ventured. "Well, that is a surprise. What're ya' gonna' do?"

Hurley stood there a second, not sure what he could do or what he _should_ do. Why would Sawyer be living across the street from Jack and Kate? Did they know he was over there? Wouldn't they have said something if they knew? They couldn't have known. Hurley remembered everything Sayid had told him about Sawyer—about him working for Widmore and the CIA and how he was a con artist. Sawyer hadn't really gotten a chance to explain what _he_ wanted with Hurley, but after seeing that Sayid was working for Ben it shattered Hurley's faith in the Iraqi. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he couldn't trust Benjamin Linus, and therefore he couldn't trust Sayid. But in that case, it was possible that he could still trust Sawyer.

Hurley was sick of being in the dark; he wanted answers, and at the moment, it seemed there was only one way for him to get them.

Rushing a little, he went to the front door and flung it open, dashed down the driveway as quickly as his legs would carry him, and across the street. By the time he got to the sidewalk across the street, he was huffing and puffing a little, and Sawyer was half-way back to the front door.

If he got inside the house, Hurley got the feeling he'd lose his opportunity.

"I'm not so sure this's a good idea." Charlie said, putting his sunglasses on. "But I s'pose there's not much choice."

"Sawyer!" Hurley called out, a little afraid that Sawyer wasn't going to hear him.

But he stopped in his tracks, not moving or turning around, just completely stiff, like an animal that had strayed into the sights of his predator. Like he thought if he stayed still Hurley would leave him alone.

Hurley slowed down but continued to pad toward him, trying to catch his breath. He half expected Sawyer to suddenly dart into the house.

But instead, he turned around, smiling largely, "Well, well, well, if it ain't Hugo Reyez. How'd your little meetin' with Sayid go anyway?" For just a second his eyes ventured up and down the street behind Hurley, like he expected to see Sayid there with him.

Hurley didn't answer, but just stared at Sawyer, unable to find his voice.

He remembered that the other night Sawyer's face had been a little bruised, but now he looked even worse. The bruises at the corner of his mouth and under his eyes were dark and severe, there was a gash in his cheek and another in his temple. His lips looked cracked, fat and bloody. His knuckles had half-clotted blood on them, like he'd punched the living shit out of someone. Even his shirt looked a little torn and had a few patches of rusty brown around the collar. More blood.

"Dude…" Hurley struggled to find his voice, "dude…what happened to you?"

"Nothin'. Little bar fight, that's all."

It seemed believable enough, but should he buy it?

_He's a con artist—that means he's really, really good at lying. He could tell me anything, and I wouldn't know if I could believe it or not._

"Anyway, Hugo, what the hell're you doin' around these parts? Come ta' visit Jack and Kate?"

So far, he was being perfectly nonchalant, like he was supposed to be there, just living across the street. Like he'd been their neighbor for years.

Was he really working for the CIA? Was he _really_ working for Widmore?

"You can't afford to not find out." Charlie said, a little gravely. "Now that you've seen him and you know he's here, it'd be stupid not to question him about it."

He was right. That was the only Hurley knew for sure—he had to confront Sawyer. The con seemed calm and composed, like he was supposed to be there, but Hurley remembered how he'd reacted to hearing his name called-like he'd been caught in the middle of something-and even now, there was something that didn't feel quite right. It was possible that Hurley seeing him was a huge problem.

"Sawyer," Hurley spoke as sincerely as he could, "I really, really need to talk to you. Like right now."

"Now? That's a tall order, Hugo—I'm a little busy right now."

"Please, Dude. It's important."

Sawyer sighed, "Well, what is it?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why am I where?" Sawyer sounded a little annoyed.

"Here. Like, right here, at this house, taking out the garbage, living across from Jack and Kate with them not even knowing it. Why?"

Sawyer sighed again, "That's complicated, Hurley."

"Sayid told me he thinks you're working for the CIA."

"What?" Sawyer's eyes narrowed.

"Is it true?"

"No. 'Course it's not true. That crazy bastard musta' been messin' with ya'."

Hurley wasn't convinced. "What about Widmore? You working for _him?_"

"No. Sayid musta' told ya' that so ya' wouldn't find out that _he's_ workin' for Widmore."

"Sayid's not working for Widmore."

"No?"

"No. He's working for Ben."

For the first time, Sawyer's composure seemed to shatter completely. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. His mouth dropped open just slightly. "What?"

"So dude, maybe you should-"

Sawyer took one smooth step forward and fisted a hand in Hurley's shirt, his voice quiet and dark as death, "Did you just say _Sayid_ is workin' for _Benjamin Linus?_"

Hurley nodded, trying not to let himself feel afraid, but Sawyer's reaction was scary. "Yeah. He took me to see him, but I got away."

For what felt like forever, Sawyer just stared at him with those hard, blue eyes, not looking away for even a second. It was like time had been suspended. At last, he let go of Hurley, and then stepped back to look down the road, like he expected to see someone coming. Then he turned away quickly, "C'mon, let's go."

"Go where?" Hurley stayed where he was.

"Over to McDonalds. Dammit! Where d'ya think, Hugo? Inside!"

Still, Hurley didn't move. "Why?"

Sawyer turned his glare on him again, "Want me to answer your damn questions or not?"

"What do you think, Dude?" Hurley asked Charlie quietly. "Should I?"

Phantom Charlie nodded, "Yeah, Mate. I think you should."

So, reluctantly, Hurley went after Sawyer, praying that somehow, this was the right thing to do.

Inside, the house seemed large-much bigger than Jack's house-but Hurley realized it was only because there was nothing there. No decorations, no pictures on the wall, nothing personal, just a small arrangement of furniture in the living room, and a cheap table in the kitchen. It was completely quiet.

Sawyer practically slammed the door behind Hurley, then strode past him a little quickly, going toward the kitchen, "Want a drink or somethin'?"

"No thanks, Dude. I'm cool." He watched Sawyer take a beer out of the fridge and pop it open. "Dude, don't you think it's a little early to-"

"All right," Sawyer slammed about a quarter of the bottle, set it down heavily, wiping his lips with his sleeve, "let's hear it. Sayid's workin' for Ben. You _sure_?"

"Yeah, Dude. I'm sure. He admitted it and everything."

"Dammit!" Sawyer turned away, hitting his fist hard on the countertop.

For a moment or two, they stood there awkwardly, then Hurley cleared his throat and ventured, "What about you? Who are _you_ working for? What's with this house, and all the people living here?"

Sawyer didn't look at him. His head was hung a little, and he breathed out heavily. "Look, Hugo, I'm only tellin' ya' this 'cause I got to. Understand?"

"Yeah, okay."

"That means ya' can't go telling anybody. Got it? _Nobody_."

"Dude, I'm not gonna'-"

"I'm serious, Hurley," Sawyer looked up suddenly and came toward him, pointing a finger at him angrily. "I ain't jokin' 'bout this! Nobody else can know that I'm here or what's goin' on, or that you even saw me—not Kate, not Jack, not nobody! If you blow my cover…let's just say it's gonna' suck. For all of us."

Hurley studied him, not sure what to think of that, whether it was a threat, or if Sawyer was scared, or what. "So, you really work for the CIA, huh?"

"I work with the CIA." Sawyer went back to his beer, sipping it sort of moodily. "There's a difference."

"But why?"

"Don't matter why."

"Well, what are you guys trying to do?"

"I can't tell ya' that."

"I think maybe you should."

Sawyer snorted, "Oh really? Why's that?"

"How else do I know I can trust you?"

"Why _wouldn't_ ya' trust me? I ain't done nothin' to-"

"Sayid told me you're a con artist, Dude, don't gime' that crap."

"And ya' just believed him?"

"He had a file. It looked pretty real."

"File?" Sawyer looked interested. "Where the hell'd he get that?"

"Ben maybe? I don't know."

Sawyer scoffed, "Figures."

"Look, Dude, can't you just tell me what this is all about? What's up with the whole Widmore thing? If you're not working for him, and Sayid's not working for him, then why is he even an issue?"

"'Cause he might be involved."

"Involved in what?"

Sawyer shook his head, "Jesus, I shouldn't be tellin' ya' all this, Hurley."

"But you can trust me, Man. You know that, right? I'm not going to blow your cover or anything, I promise. I just want to understand."

Sawyer looked at him out of the corner of his eye, something cold and disbelieving on his face.

"Somethin's up." Charlie commented. "He's not himself."

That compelled Hurley to ask, "What exactly are you doing for the CIA?"

"Just keepin' an eye on ya'll. We think Widmore bribed some agents to bring in the Oceanic Seven, but we ain't sure which ones. It's sort of a messy situation."

"What does that have to do with Ben?"

"Beats the livin' hell outta' me." Sawyer paused to rub his head, wincing slightly as he did.

"What I'd like to know," Charlie said, "is how Sawyer-our drinkin', shootin', conning buddy-got wrapped up with the CIA in the first place. It's too weird for words."

It seemed like a good thing to ask, so Hurley said, "Dude, how'd you get into the CIA anyway? I mean, you're not exactly…the type they recruit."

"Don't matter." Sawyer growled, "And if ya' know what's good for ya', you won't ask me that again, got it?"

"Well what about Jack and Kate? Do they know anything about this?"

"Not very much. I'm keepin' an eye on them, but they can't know 'bout it. That's why I told ya' ta' keep your fat trap shut. And if you don't mind, I got a question or two to ask _you._"

Hurley was thinking too hard on the situation to let the insulting words bother him. "Yeah, all right, shoot."

"First of all, ya' said Sayid took ya' ta' Ben, right? Where?"

"Uh…I'm not sure…"

"Not sure?" Sawyer sounded outraged.

"Yeah. It was dark and stuff. Some kinda' cheap motel."

"Fine. No trackin' him down right now anyway. What did he want with ya'?"

"He never said."

"What _did_ he say?"

"Just that…uh, I can't like, trust you. And that you're working for Widmore. Oh yeah, and Ben said he was tryin' to help us, but Sayid said he was gonna' kill Widmore really soon. I dunno, man." Hurley shrugged. "I kinda' ran away before they could say very much to me."

"Good move."

Hurley nodded a little, wondering what would have happened if he stayed there. And then he thought of something else.

"Sayid said something about your superior working for Widmore. Could _that_ be true?"

Sawyer seemed to hesitate for a long time after that, like he was thinking of what to say, and just when Hurley was sure he wasn't going to answer, he said quietly, "No. It's not."

"Dude, are you sure? Sayid seemed pretty insistent."  
"What the hell does Sayid know? Remember, he's workin' for the damn enemy, Hugo."

"Yeah, I know, but what if he's right? Do you know that you can trust the people you're working for?"

"Yes, I know it. Now quit askin'."

"But you-"

"Drop it, Hurley. I mean it. I can't tell ya' nothin' else."

"Hey, man, I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need help. You should get outta' here."

It sounded almost like a threat. "What if your teammates come back?"

"I dunno." Sawyer went to the window. "Let's not find out."

Hurley glanced at Charlie as subtly as he could. The ghost of his friend seemed to be watching the exchange with extreme interest. "C'mon Mate. I don't think he's goin' to tell us anymore."

Hurley nodded a little, and then started to head for the door, "Well, Dude…I guess I'll see you later, huh?"

"Maybe."

"You take it easy."

Sawyer looked at him, taking another swig from his beer, "Just remember, Hugo, you can't tell nobody that ya' saw me, got it? I know ya' suck at keepin' secrets, but this one's really important."

"Are you going to get in trouble if they find out?"

Sawyer hesitated again, and then nodded, "Maybe."

"With your superior?"

"'Course."

"Dude, has it occurred to you that you're one of the Oceanic Seven too?"

"What's that s'posed ta' mean?"

"It's just," Hurley hesitated at the front door, looking seriously at Sawyer, "if Widmore is really after us that means he's after you too, and if he's already hired CIA agents to work for him then maybe you're in more danger than any of us. You don't know for sure your superior isn't working for Widmore—what if he has you exactly where he wants you and is like, I dunno', using you to round up the rest of us."

Sawyer studied him a quiet moment, then shrugged, "Don't worry 'bout that. I can take care of myself."

"All I'm sayin' is that maybe you shouldn't trust that guy so much…whoever he is. I mean, I don't know him, so I have no idea, but if I were you I wouldn't trust anyone in the CIA too much…it could be bad news."

"And all I'm sayin'," Sawyer flung the door open suddenly and pointed out, "is that you should amscray before somebody comes back and catches ya'."

"Okay, dude, okay. I'm going. I'm going. Just…" Hurley started to leave, lingering on the steps an extra moment, "just be careful, Sawyer. Please?"

"Mind your own business, Hurley."

With that, Sawyer shut the door in his face. Hurley heard him walking away, and still he stood there a few seconds, hoping Sawyer would come back and fill him in on all the details that he'd left out, but he knew that wasn't going to happen, so he sighed and started to walk back across the street to Jack's house.

"That sure was weird." Charlie said.

"Yeah. It was."

"Just think about it. Sawyer workin' for the CIA…it's completely crazy."

Hurley nodded, but he was lost in thought. It seemed too good to be true to assume that Sawyer had coincidentally been recruited by the CIA at the same time Widmore had hired agents to hunt down the Oceanic Seven. But as long as Sawyer didn't want to tell the truth about what he was doing there was no way to help him. Hopefully his trust in whoever his superior happened to be wasn't misplaced.

And the whole twist with Sayid working for Ben didn't help at all. Whatever Ben wanted had to be the opposite of what Widmore wanted, naturally, but that didn't necessarily mean it was the right thing, or that it was good for Hurley and his friends.

As he walked back to the house and took his dishes to the kitchen, he pondered everything he'd learned. It would be nice to tell Jack or Kate about it, but he didn't know what the consequences for that would be, so he was obligated to stay quiet, keep it to himself.

For the time being, the only person he had to discuss it with was the ghost of his friend.

**Hello again! It's me.**

**I sincerely apologize for the delay on this chapter, but I just finished a particularly brutal quarter at school and didn't have a whole lot of time to work. Now I'm off for three weeks, and hopefully I'll be able to get some writing done somewhere between spending time with family and friends. I'm really excited about the next few chapters, so I shouldn't have any trouble writing them, if I find the time. ^^;**

**Again, sorry for the delay, and thanks for reading!**

**--Suta**


	13. Chapter 13

Hurley was sitting on the couch when Kate got back. She heard him before she saw him, sitting in the other room mumbling. Urging Aaron to go play, she called out, "Hurley? Who are you talking to?"

There was a moment of silence before the answer came back, "Uh, no one, Dude. Just…talkin' to…the TV."

Well, it was a little weird, but he wasn't the only one who did it, so she decided to relax and ventured into the living room where Hurley was sitting exactly where she'd left him over an hour ago. Apparently he hadn't moved. "The TV huh?"

"I know. Crazy right? So how was the store?"

Something was weird. He wasn't making eye contact with her. In fact, he wasn't even looking at her at all. Had something happened?

"Just fine." Kate deposited her purse onto the chair and started walking toward the kitchen. Hurley's behavior was strange, but she had a lot of other things to be worried about.

First in foremost in her mind was Sawyer: she couldn't help wondering where he was and whether or not he was okay. Last she'd known, he was in trouble for bringing her a donut, so it seemed like reason enough to worry. And at the same time, it seemed totally wrong since she was practically married to Jack.

But why shouldn't she be allowed to worry about a close friend? After all, ever since the incident with Sawyer Jack had seemed distant. He didn't appear to care at all that Sawyer might be in danger, or that they had no idea where he was, and he even wanted to go on with the wedding. To Kate, that was callous. She had hoped that if she was going to marry someone he'd be a little more understanding towards his friends.

Hurley dropping in so unexpectedly only added to the complexity, and the fact that he wouldn't say why he was there made it seem all the more dire. Even though it didn't really feel like things could get much worse.

And somehow she got the feeling that it was worse than she realized, mostly because of the new neighbors. She'd been keeping an eye on the house across the street, at first just to satisfy her own curiosity, but as time had gone by she'd noticed more and more unusual activity coming from there, and her suspicions were aroused. She never actually saw the people who lived in the house, although it seemed like they were always coming and going. A lot of times, right after Jack left in the morning, the garage to the new neighbors' house would open, and some non-descript car would glide out and vanish around the corner. The first time she'd seen it happen she'd assumed it was just a coincidence, but when it kept happening, morning after morning, Kate had realized that someone was following her fiancé. After that, she'd kept her eyes open to see if anyone was after her too, and sure enough, there was usually a black car hot on her tail whenever she drove down the street, even if it was just to go to the corner store. Although she'd never seen her stalker, or Jack's, she knew from the silhouette she saw through the darkly tinted glass that they were men. And she knew that there were at least two others living there as well: two black cars, a white car, and a silver car.

If it didn't stop soon, she was going to go across the street, knock on the door, and introduce herself. That would sort things out pretty quickly.

Kate stepped into the kitchen, trying to think of something to occupy her mind with that could make her forget her problems for a while. The last thing she wanted to do was a bunch of housework.

But when she got there, she realized that wasn't going to be a problem. From the looks of things someone had already cleaned all the dishes from this morning and had placed them back in the glass cabinets. The sink was completely clean as well, with not so much as a stray sponge.

She was just turning to say something about it to Hurley, when there was a harsh knock on the door.

Kate froze. It was instinct. After running from the law for so long and being so wary of cops, she had come to recognize the rude, loud manner the police used when coming to the door, and if that wasn't a cop's knock…

There was no reason not to answer it though, of course. She wasn't doing anything wrong: as long as she stayed in the city she was allowed to live as she chose. So what was this tight knot of fear that was coiling in her stomach.

Hurley looked over his shoulder at her, "You expecting someone?"

Kate shook her head, because he mouth was dry, and she wasn't sure she could answer.

"Maybe it's Jack. Maybe he forgot his key or something."

Hurley studied her a moment, expecting her to get the door, and then he seemed to realize she wasn't going to and turned to do it himself.

The action made Kate spring to life. "No, Hurley, it's all right. I've got it." She stepped around him smoothly and walked back down the hall to the front door.

Aaron was standing not far off, "Who's here, Momma?"

"I don't know yet, sweet heart."

And she didn't want to find out. Even with Hurley right behind her she felt nervous and exposed, found herself wishing Jack was beside her. Or Sawyer.

With a deep breath, Kate reached for the doorknob.

To her surprise, there was a woman on her porch, only about as old as she was. She had a heart-shaped face and plump, red lips. On her face she wore thin, discrete eyeglasses, and her long, strawberry blonde hair was so long it reached her waist. Her clothes were simple but sophisticated: a light blouse with a modest, knee-length skirt and high heels. She looked more like a secretary than a police officer.

Immediately, the woman smiled, "Good afternoon, Ms. Austen."

"Who are you?" Kate demanded. She couldn't help being rude when a random stranger showed up on her door and called her by her first name.

Unbothered, the woman extended her hand. There was something very confident and nearly arrogant about her as she said, "My name is Amber Feist."

Slowly, Kate took her hand and shook it, but it was mostly just because she was too confused to do anything else. "What do you want?"

Amber seemed to notice Hurley for the first time, gave him a measuring look before continuing, "I'd like to speak to you alone, Ms. Austen. If I may."

Kate didn't need to think about it even for a second. This woman didn't look like she posed much a threat, but with the weird things that had been going on lately, she didn't feel inclined to invite anyone she didn't know inside. "Sorry, I'm busy. Maybe you should come back later, when my fiancé is home."

Amber smiled, but something about it was cold, "I don't think that would be smart, Kate. What I have to say is for your ears only."

"What is it?" Hurley demanded.

"I can't discuss it with you, sir. I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry." Kate said "But I'm just too busy."

"It will only take a minute."

"I don't have a minute."

Kate started to shut the door, but Amber braced herself against it, voice lined with a bit of desperation, "Please, Kate, just hear me out. It's about James." The last part was whispered so Kate barely understood what she'd heard.

But as soon as she did she felt her heart rate slow. She only knew one James, and she didn't know very many people who called him that.

Amber grinned again, "I thought that would get your attention."

"I don't know a James." Kate choked.

"You _do_, Kate, and if you care about him at all-if you don't want him to die, you need to hear what I have to say."

What could she do? Either she had to listen to this woman and hopefully save Sawyer's life, or slam the door in her face and risk finding out that she had been telling the truth.

Finally, Kate opened the door a little wider, "Come in."

"Kate." Hurley warned, "I don't think-"

"It's all right." Amber interrupted. "You can trust me, I came as a friend. But we have to hurry."

Kate and Hurley both stepped to the side, and with a curt thank you, Amber walked straight for the living room, heels rapping on the wood floor, almost like she'd been there before. "There's not a moment to lose. Ms. Austen, I must speak to you alone, and it's very urgent."

With an apologetic look to Hurley, Kate murmured, "I think we should trust her. Would you take Aaron out back?"

Hurley was still looking hard at Amber, but he nodded. "Call if you need anything." Then he took Aaron by the hand, "C'mon, little Dude, let's go out back and, like, do stuff. You play catch?"

Kate took just a moment to watch them go before following Amber around the corner.

The woman was standing across the room at the mantle, staring at a picture of Jack and Kate together without saying anything. Even when Kate cleared her throat she didn't move.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you. It's best if we just get right to business, so I'll get to the heart of the reason behind my visit." Amber turned to face Kate, digging in the small handbag she was clutching under one arm for a second, and then she handed Kate a photograph.

Kate stared at it. It was Sawyer, in all his masculine glory, but judging from his appearance-scruffy hair and leather jacket-the photo had been taken a couple years ago. Maybe just after he'd left LA in hopes of escaping Hawkins. Evidently he had no idea the picture was being taken, since his back was to the camera and his head was tilted to the side, looking at something that had been cropped out. She could see the cold, steel blue of his eyes, and practically smell him.

"Is that your James?" Amber asked neutrally.

"He's not my James." Kate said after some hesitation. "Not anymore."

"But it is in fact the man you call Sawyer."

Kate glared at her. "Of course it is. Why? What do you want with him?"

"I don't want anything." She sighed. "I came to help him—to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"I believe Sawyer is in great danger, and he may or may not realize it by now. I want to help him, but in order to do that I need you to promise me that you're not going to repeat what I say to anyone, and that you aren't going to blow my cover."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"No one is ever sure they can trust someone else, Kate." Amber sighed. "But you have no choice but to believe me, because if you don't listen to what I have to say no one will be able to help him. At the moment, you're his best chance to survive."

"I don't understand. Why-"

"Kate." Her voice was sharp. "Will you promise or not?"

Kate searched the other woman's eyes, wishing there was some way she could tell if this was the right thing to do or not, but Amber's green eyes were cool and emotionless, giving nothing away. There was nothing else to do, so she nodded, "All right, I promise. Now let's hear it."

Visibly relieved, Amber sat down on the couch and removed her glasses, not looking at Kate. "I'm an undercover agent for the CIA, Kate, but I'm not coming here on anyone's behalf. I came just for the warning, and no other reason.

"You see, several months ago, we got wind of top secret information, that an anonymous citizen has hired numerous agents privately, in hopes of getting his hands on the Oceanic Seven. Normally, such things have nothing to do with the CIA, but there were several rather important members of the agency who took a great deal of interest in the case, and after a couple of agents were killed, they managed to persuade headquarters to let them investigate, so a small number of agents were given permission to act separately from the organization in order to resolve the conflict."

"Christian Shepherd?" Kate asked.

To Amber's surprised look she added, "I'm not an idiot. Jack told me about his father."

"Yes, Agent Shepherd is the agent in charge of the investigation, for obvious reasons. However, it's been nearly impossible to distinguish which agents are traitors and which are trustworthy; even when someone has a hunch about another agent it's very difficult to prove, so the men in charge of the operation decided to take more drastic measures.

"Long story short, they found James and…ah, persuaded him to help them."

"Persuaded him how?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly what method they used."

"But it doesn't sound like Sawyer to just join someone like that. Why would he just join the CIA like that?"

"He's not necessarily a member of the CIA. Like I said, I can't give you the details, but I can tell you that Sawyer's participation was not one hundred percent voluntary."

Kate couldn't help glaring, "So they're holding something over his head?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"But what?"

"It doesn't matter what—all that matters is that if your friend makes one wrong move he's dead."

At the sound of those words, Kate's chest tightened.

Agent Feist continued like she didn't notice, "Or I guess it's more accurate to say that if he makes the right wrong move he'll be dead. You see, Kate, here's the heart of the problem. Ford has always been a somewhat shady individual, and his past record can easily be used against him, which is why, I suspect, the CIA sought him out rather than Jack or Sayid."

Kate couldn't hide the anger in her voice as she spoke, heard it trembling in her tone, "What exactly are you people using him to do?"

Sighing, Feist looked away, "Initially, the superiors of the mission were hoping that his connection with the rest of the Oceanic Seven would be useful in that it would be easy to gain all of your trust. Or so they said. Now I'm afraid that we may have underestimated the double agents and that they might actually be in control of the entire operation. If that's true, Sawyer is being used to round up the other six of the Oceanic survivors. It's possible that whoever has hired them wishes to use him to gather you all in one place. What he'll do then, I have no idea. The main point though, is that the mission has gone terribly wrong, and you are all in danger now."

"But-"

Feist held up a hand and shook her head, "Please, don't speak, just listen to me. Whatever happens, if Sawyer comes here and tries to persuade you to go with him anywhere, you have to refuse. Don't follow him anywhere, and don't listen to anything he says."

Now Kate felt indignant. This woman, who obviously hardly knew Sawyer at all, was saying he wasn't trustworthy. It was outrageous—Kate had known him all this time, better than most people ever would. "I know I can trust Sawyer. He would _never_-"

"Never knowingly lead you into any danger. Yes, I know, Kate. I know you can trust Sawyer, it's his superiors that can't be trusted, and the position they've gotten him into, it's not as if he'll be able to disobey any orders they give him."

Kate let the anger subside and thought a moment. Did Feist mean Christian Shephard couldn't be trusted? That seemed impossible. The man might have been cold, he might have been a drunk, and from what Jack had told her he was not a very caring father, but that didn't mean he would ever hurt his only son.

"But what about Sawyer? You said he could be in danger, that he might die, how can I help him?"

"It's not up to you to save him at this point, Kate, that's not why I came here. Perhaps later you might play some role in helping him, but at this moment it's best for you and your fiancé to lie low and trust no one. I'll help James the best I can."

Kate shook her head. Feist's best wasn't good enough—how could she entrust such an important mission to a total stranger? "How do I know I can trust you? Just why would you come over here to tell me this stuff? Don't you work for the CIA too?"

"I do, but I'm not under the direct orders of any of the men leading this investigation, and in many ways I'm being ignored. I think that if I'm bought a little time I can figure out who's to be trusted and who's our enemy. If I can distinguish that then there's a chance I can save James."

Her tone said what her words didn't. There was no guarantee she could help Sawyer.

Kate stepped closer, "Are you telling me that there are multiple people leading the investigation, and that you don't know which one can be trusted?"

"If either." Feist looked at her expression and sighed, "I understand your frustration, Kate. As I said, I can't share any details with you, but James is in a very immobile position right now. At least one, and possibly both of the men in charge are working for some unknown party, and if it's both I'm not sure it will be possible to save Sawyer at all. However, if things continue on the course that's ahead of him now I'm sure that most of the rest of you, if not all of you, will survive. Should he make a wrong move and be disposed of, it will expose the double agent, and then we'll be able to get the Oceanic Seven to safety."

The rage Kate had been checking on and off for the last fifteen minutes suddenly exploding, "You can't be serious! You want Sawyer to sacrifice himself! That's what this is really about, isn't it? The CIA was never using him to gain our trust, they're using him as _bait_, putting him out there because they know he'll do whatever it takes to protect us, hoping to draw out the double agents!"

"Ms. Austen, please calm down. There's no guarantee that-"

"As if that's not bad enough, these 'double agents' are probably controlling him too, using him to do God knows what! Sawyer's going to get killed because of the CIA's carelessness, and in the meantime the others will swoop in and pick the rest of us off, or whatever they have planned!"

Kate hesitated. She hadn't meant to refer to the double agents as 'the others', but it had come out that way, and now she wondered what all of this had to do with the island.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Austen." Feist got up, grabbing her purse. "I know this isn't good news, but there's little else for me to do. I just want to help."

"Why?"  
Feist seemed unsure of how to reply, but then she shrugged and smiled wanly, "More classified information. I'm sorry."

"Where is Sawyer now?"

"I can't tell you that."

Furious, Kate jumped forward, grabbing the older woman by the collar, "If you can't tell me then I'll go find someone who does. I'll search the whole damn city if I have to, but I will help Sawyer."

The agent seemed more annoyed than afraid. "I suppose that's true. And if you do that it will jeopardize not only the mission, but all of your lives, and possibly the lives of the agents who are involved. But if I do tell you where he is you _must_ promise me that you'll stay away from him."

"Why would I do that if he's in danger?"

"Because Ford has the strictest orders from both of his superiors to stay away from the Oceanic Seven unless otherwise stated, and especially you. If it's found out that you were together…" she trailed off, lifting her eyes to stare up at the mantle again, "Goddammit, Kate, do you want to get Sawyer killed?"

Kate was quiet. How could she reply to that? "I want to help him." She said at last.

"Then stay away from him—keep Jack away from him, Reyez away from him. All of the Oceanic Seven have to stay away from Sawyer, or else he may not be of anymore use to the CIA. Unless you promise-"

"Fine. I promise. Just tell me where he is."

"You'll be surprised to learn that he's across the street as we speak—a handful of trusted agents, along with James, have been assigned to watch you and the rest of the Oceanic Seven. He's been there most of the week."

Kate was so stunned, she wasn't sure how to react. Sawyer? Across the street all this time? He was there right now? It would be easy to get to him… But she didn't want to risk his life.

Easily, Amber Feist pried Kate's fingers lose and gave her a half-sympathetic glance before turning away, "Now I'm afraid I must go. I'm not really supposed to be here either. Just keep what I said in mind."

For a second, Kate watched her go, and then followed, "I just have one more question."

"Better make it a good one, Hon." Feist put her glasses back on.

"Do you have any idea who might have hired the double agents?"

Silence. That was a first. Finally this cocky bitch had nothing to say.

"Are you not allowed to tell me that either?"

"I'm not sure I should. I don't want to scare you."

Kate rolled her eyes. "You think the things you've been saying the last twenty minutes haven't already scared me enough? Just tell me."

A soft sigh, and Amber stepped through the door, lingering there, looking much too innocent to be a CIA member. "Rumor has it that it's Charles Widmore."

Kate started to speak, but wound up just gasping instead, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Widmore?"

Agent Feist regarded her a compassionate second, and then quietly left.

Shaking, Kate sank down to the floor. Charles Widmore… What did he want with them now? Whatever it was, she was sure it had to do with the island. But was he using Sawyer and Christian Shephard to get to the rest of the Oceanic Seven?

Kate watched the house across the street, keeping both eyes in a constant state of focus, her body perfectly still, other than the wrist that was twirling the wine glass. She'd sent Hurley and Aaron to the park for a while, and even though Hurley had seemed reluctant, and even protested at first, he must have been able to tell something was wrong and had finally agreed.

Now it was just her, alone in her house, thinking about everything Feist had said, and everything she wanted to do about it. How could she overlook what the woman had told her? She had said Sawyer needed her help, but then she'd said he'd be killed if she attempted to help him in any way. It was a terrible box to be in.

Would he really get in trouble for just seeing her? Would he really be punished if he just accidentally bumped into her? What if it was all her fault? What if _she_ approached him? What if the agents never found out the two of them had met?

Kate couldn't get it out of her head that there had to be some loophole in what Feist had said. Just how closely were the agents watching James.

Jack was gone, and the silver car had followed him. That meant there should be at least two cars left across the street, and one of them might be Sawyer. A black car was parked on the curb, but she didn't see any sign of the third or fourth car. Was it possible that Sawyer was over there by himself?

Now she'd been sitting here for a half hour, debating and watching the house. Occasionally she checked the clock. It was almost four, Jack would be home around five thirty, Hurley and Aaron would be at the park for a little while, but she was running out of time. She had to either make a move, or not.

Well, being stagnant wasn't going to solve anything, so Kate set her wine down and got up, went to stand in front of the window, looking across the road.

She almost thought she could see someone in the other house, standing mirror to her, at the window.

Maybe it was just because she so longed for it to be Sawyer, or maybe she was just sad, but she felt the urge to raise her hand and press it to the glass. Almost like she could reach out and touch him.

It looked for a moment like the figure across the street mimicked the action.

That settled it. She was going.

"Where the hell's she goin' this time of day?" Sawyer muttered.

He was standing at the window, watching as Kate walked out, sunglasses on, purse in one hand. She went to her little silver car and slid into the driver's side. It was about four o'clock, she didn't have Aaron with her, Jack wasn't home. Where could she be heading off to in the middle of the afternoon? Jack would be back soon, so shouldn't she be starting dinner.

"Love?"

Loveless was in the kitchen, pigging out, and Sawyer could hear that his mouth was full, "Hm?"

"Where'd Austen go this mornin'?"

"Grocery store."

So she wouldn't be going to pick up ingredients for dinner, unless she'd forgotten something. What was that girl doing? Maybe he was just overthinking everything. People went places—there was no reason why she should be confined to her house all the time—maybe she just needed a break from her kid.

Loveless appeared in the doorway, a chicken leg in one hand. "Why? What's up?"

"Looks like she's headin' out again."

"What?" The young agent frowned and went to stand beside Sawyer, "Where could she be going?"

Kate started the car and began to pull out.

The two of them looked at each other, Loveless asking, "Should I?"

"I'll go."

"But…it's your day off."

"Helluva day off. You're eatin', I can handle it."

Loveless still seemed reluctant.

"What? Sarge tell ya' not ta' let me leave?"

"No. It's not that. It's just…"

Kate's little car was already heading down the street.

"Dammit, Loveless, we ain't got time ta' debate this. One of us has ta' go or we'll lose her." Grabbing his jacket, Sawyer marched to the door, "I'll call if there's trouble, alright?"

"Okay." Loveless waved a little, "Be careful."

Sawyer just snorted and dashed out to the car. He started it before the door was even shut and threw it into gear, peeled out and sped down the street after Kate. If she was going somewhere important and he lost her, or if she ran into Sayid or Ben or some other creep, he'd never forgive himself.

It had been a busy day at Jack and Kate's house. Kate had gone out, and then Sawyer had realized Hurley was there, later on, just after Kate got home, there'd been a visitor-a woman who seemed strangely familiar-and then Hurley had left with Aaron. Sawyer had seen the pair going down the street, but distracted Loveless so that he didn't notice. It might have been wise to send the kid after Hurley, but Sawyer still wasn't sure he wanted to let the other agents in on the little secret that Hugo was there.

Maybe Kate's running out so suddenly had to do with her weird guest.

Whatever it was, he couldn't afford not to pay attention.

Up ahead, he saw her car, cruising along at a normal pace, and slowed down so he wouldn't seem suspicious, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, just in case.

At first everything seemed fine, but as he followed her, Sawyer began to realize that she was taking streets at random, side roads she never went on, some he'd never been on at all, and he was hard pressed to keep up, just so he wouldn't lose her. Did she know she was being tailed? Maybe she was trying to lose him.

"Dammit, better not."

It was a crazy chase—they were both going the speed limit, and yet Sawyer felt like there was some huge rush. The more dusty side streets Kate took, the more obvious it became that she knew she was being followed, but it wasn't like he could exactly pull off and leave her alone. She could be in danger, and there was no way he was going to let something bad happen to Kate.

Eventually, she left the neighborhood and took a more major street up toward a business district, switching lanes and going right past the grocery store.

Sawyer let a few cars get between them, and stayed in the center lane for a while, just to make it seem like it was possible he wasn't following her, but he kept both eyes on her.

Kate drove on that road for a long time, going past all the places she normally went, to a more populated area of the city, and it occurred to Sawyer that maybe she was going to visit Jack at work, or that she was going to swing by the police station to get rid of her tail.

What a pain in the ass.

And then, just when he was sure that might be what she was planning, she made a turn into what looked like an abandoned shopping complex. The turn was so sudden, Sawyer had to cross a lane and hook a dangerous right just to follow. His tires screamed and the cars around him honked, but he could care less. Kate was heading into a shady area, and he had to make sure he was right there to protect her.

Her car was already a good ways ahead of him, going through the empty parking lot like it was just a slow-moving, Sunday afternoon. There were only a couple shabby businesses set up here. It looked like one of the buildings had been a grocery store once, but it was all boarded up, and now there was just a Laundromat, a couple sad-looking restaurants, and a pawn shop. A weird place for a woman to go alone.

Kate's car slowed down and she made a left to go down an alley between a couple of brick buildings.

"Damn." This had trap written all over it, but what could Sawyer do other than follow? If it was a trap, he was armed, and if it had to do with Kate it wasn't like she was going to shoot him or something. She probably just wanted to find out who was following her. A weird way to do it—normally when people were being followed they tried to find a populated area where other people would be able to see what was going on. Then again, Kate had always been a little off beat.

Sawyer parked his car so that it was blocking the ally. No one could sneak up on him, and if he did run into some unfriendlies they couldn't escape. He made sure he had his gun tucked under his jacket, and then adjusted his sunglasses before getting out.

The alley wasn't very deep, but it was shadowy, thanks to the time of day, full of dumpsters and garbage cans. An alley cat was perched up on one, and there was broken glass all over the ground. What in the world was she doing here?

At the very end of the alley was an open area, almost like a parking lot, and Kate's car was sitting there, just like she was waiting. He crept closer, one hand on his gun, eyes looking around tentatively, expecting danger to rear its ugly head at any given moment. "Kate?"

He approached the car slowly, heart starting to beat a little faster.

Then, when he was just a few yards from the car, he realized it was empty, spun around, "Where the hell-"

To his surprise, Kate was just standing there, not ten feet from him, arms folded, that familiar, teasing smile on her lips, "So it is you. I thought it might be."

"What's that s'posed ta' mean?"

"I know you've been following me, Sawyer. I just had to be absolutely sure.

Immediately, Sawyer realized it _had_ been a trap, and he'd walked right into it. She wasn't supposed to know he was following her, but evidently this whole trip had been for the soul purpose of proving that.

"I ain't been followin' ya. I just saw ya' on the road an' thought I'd say howdy."

Her smile deepened, "Still lying huh?"

Sawyer went for a cross between indignant and amused, scoffed, "It ain't a lie, freckles. What, can't a man say hey to an old friend."

Kate's frown drooped just a little, "Don't play games with me, Sawyer. I knew you'd follow me, that's why I came here. At least, I knew one of you would."

"One of us? I don't know what-"

"You and the other agents that are living across the street from Jack and I."

"Agents? Freckles, don't let your imagination get away with ya'. We don't got nothin' ta' do with livin' across from you."

She shook her head, hair falling away from the smooth column of her neck. He couldn't help staring at it. It had been weeks since he'd seen her, so long since he'd touched her. He missed the days when she'd been his, and part of him hated what he'd done, how he'd given her up. It was difficult to remember why he'd done it.

"Please just listen to me, James. I just need to talk to you."

"You led me here ta' talk about secret agents playin' house? What-"

"Sawyer."

"Fine." He sighed. "What'd ya' wanna' talk about?"

"I want to talk about what you're doing and why."

"What _am_ I doin'?"

"Your job with the CIA. If it can even be called a job."

"Oh, that; look, Kate, it ain't nothin' ta' write home about. I told ya' before, it ain't got nothin' to do with you an' the Doc, we just-"

"Stop lying to me!" She practically shouted. "Is this a game to you? You think it's funny to have me all worried? You think you can just lie to my face and it won't matter?"

Sawyer stared at her, speechless. He hadn't been expecting her to lose her temper like that—it wasn't like Kate, unless she was really upset.

"A woman came to my house today-a CIA agent-and she told me what's going on. Everything. About how Charles Widmore hired agents to find the Oceanic Seven, about how the CIA is forcing you to help them, about how you're living across the street from Jack and I, keeping an eye on us—you can't hide all that from me, and even if you try, I know the truth now."

Still he was stunned. Who the hell would have told her so much? And more importantly, why? Were they trying to sabotage the mission? What did Kate expect him to do? At last, he exhaled sharply and lowered his eyes, "Kate, look, it ain't somethin' I can talk about."

"I don't care about the mission, and I'm not interested in any 'classified' information. I'm interested in what's going on with you."

"What'dya' mean by that?" He gave her a long look. This conversation was getting a little confusing.

"What do I mean by that? Just look at your face, Sawyer. I don't know how the CIA convinced you to work for them, but I know that you'd never volunteer, so they must be using something against you. I just want to know what it is."  
He forced a smile, and even though it didn't feel genuine, he was sure she couldn't tell the difference. Not even Kate. He was just too good at lying. "You're worryin' 'bout nothin', Freckles. Don't know who came ta' visit you, but I'm pretty sure they were just tryin' ta' get ya' all upset. The CIA ain't using nothin' against me. Yeah, alright, I ain't exactly a bonafide agent, but that don't mean I've got a gun to my head." He had to stop there and think about what to say next, try to convince himself that there _wasn't_ a gun to his head. "Jack's Daddy sought me out, explained the situation, and asked if I wanted ta' help. 'Course, I didn't jump on the train _right_ away-ya' know me, the buckle down stuff don't really fit-so it took some persuadin', but in the end I decided it was for the best. For all of us.

"Hell, ya' might even say the Doc had somethin' ta' do with it, tellin' me ta' use my connin' talents for the greater good and what not. Who knows, maybe when this's all over I'll join the Agency proper."

She studied him a while, not speaking.

Sawyer went on smiling. She had to believe him—the speech had been perfect, the tone just right, and delivery exact. There was no way she was going to doubt him, and even if she did, it would be easy to convince her now that the foundation was laid.

"So you're telling me Jack's father, who everyone assumed was dead, found you-wherever you were-told you all about a classified CIA mission, and asked if you wanted to help?"

"Freckles, it sounds crazy when ya' say it like that." He frowned.

"But that's what happened?"

"More or less."

"I don't believe you."

The words startled him, "What'dya' mean ya' don't believe me?"

"It's too weird. I don't believe it. I don't believe Christian Shephard would go out of his way to find you and risk telling you everything about a mission in hopes of you agreeing to help. First of all, why_ you_?"

"I dunno, the man just thought I was a good candidate for the job."

"I know you, Sawyer. I know you'd never agree to do something like that so lightly—there'd have to be either something in it for you, or a really, really good reason for you to do it."

He couldn't help glaring at her a little, miffed by her ability to see through his lies. "Fine, have it your way. Don't believe me if ya' don't wanna."

Kate drifted closer, put a hand on his arm, "Sawyer, I don't know why you feel like you need to lie to me about this, and I don't know what they've done to get you to do this, but I'm begging you, if there's any way at all for you to walk away then get out."

Sawyer was so caught up in her words and the emotions he heard in them that he wasn't sure how to react, "What's this about, Kate? This got somethin' ta' do with Jack?"

"It has nothing to do with Jack, it's all about you. The woman who came to my house today told me that you're in danger if you stay in this mission."

That made him more uncomfortable that ever, "Just who was this chick that dropped by?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that she told me that you're in danger. She said that you can't trust your superiors-any of them-and I don't know if that includes Christian Shephard, but if it does… Sawyer, whatever you're doing this for, it's not worth it. Nothing is worth you getting killed."

He gazed down into her eyes, not sure what to say, wishing there was some way to comfort her. He wished that it was as easy as just walking away, but he knew that that was impossible. "I dunno' who that woman was, Freckles, but she was manipulating you."

"No, I don't think she was."

"That's what they do, Kate—they're all good at it."

"That's why you need to get away from them before-"

"What the hell do you know about it?" He demanded, temper starting to bend. "You've got no idea what I'm doin' this for. Even if I could just walk away, I wouldn't."

"I don't _care_ what you're doing it for; I don't care if it's for me or the others or even for Jack and my life for him. I'm telling you that whatever it is isn't worth it."

"I'll decide that."

"Sawyer-"

"Well what're _you_ doin' this for, Kate? What'dya' think you're gonna' get from convincin' me ta' run away?"

She seemed caught off guard by the question, lowered her eyes and dropped her voice, "I-I still care about you, Sawyer."

He snorted, trying to keep it hidden what those words meant to him, "Yeah, well you're with Jack'O now."

"No matter how far I go with Jack, and no matter how much I love him, I'm always going to care about you."

Sawyer wasn't sure how to respond to that, what he could say. He wished he could tell her that he still cared for her too, and that he still wanted to be with her, and he wanted to tell her everything, about how he wasn't sure he could trust Christian anymore, and about how Hudson had him on the ropes, but he knew that he couldn't. He had to face this alone, or risk putting her in the same danger he was in.

Suddenly, he pulled away and started to walk back toward his car.

"Sawyer?"

"I should go. And you gotta' get home too."

"What are you going to do?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, said quietly, "I ain't runnin', Kate."

"But don't you understand? They-"

"Look," Sawyer sighed, "I know that ya' don't think anythin' is worth me gettin' killed for, but I can't say I agree with ya, Freckles. There's just some things ya' gotta' fight for."

And then he kept going, heading for his car, trying not to let everything she'd said bother him too much.

She was quiet for a while, just watching him go with such intensity he could actually feel her gaze, and then, just before he got in the car he heard her call after him, "Just be careful, Sawyer."


	14. Chapter 14

Sawyer pulled into the garage, back at the agents' house and stopped the car with a sigh. Regardless of his best efforts, the things Kate had said to him were still bothering him. He'd known from the beginning that he was in danger on some level or other, but now it was actually starting to feel like his life might be at risk. But where exactly did that danger come from? Hudson, of course, and Ben and Widmore were definitely men to stay away from, but now he was beginning to doubt that he could trust Christian as well. If only there was some proof, some way to be sure that Agent Shephard was on the same side as he was.

As Hurley had pointed out though, Sawyer was one of the Oceanic Seven as well, something he hadn't actually considered in a long time. For some reason, being in the CIA, referring to his friends as the Oceanic Seven, pretending he wasn't one, denying it to Loveless and the others, had made him forget. Now that he'd been confronted by who he was, he realized that he could already be in Widmore's clutches and not even realize it.

Dammit. If he _could_ just walk away… But there was no way he could do that. He had a responsibility to Kate and the others; besides that, knowing what Christian had said about Hudson, he might not be able to get out of this alive.

Sawyer went into the house, starting to call out to Loveless, but stopped.

There was a voice coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Christian, but Sawyer didn't hear anyone else in the room. A phone call? He stayed silent, listening for a clue as to who it could be.

Christian was in the middle of saying, "…I'm not sure of his exact whereabouts at the moment, but one of the other agents was here when I arrived, and he believes he's tailing one of the others."

_Me?_

Who else could it be? But why would Christian be talking about him, and to who? Hudson maybe?

There was a long pause, and then Christian continued, "To tell the truth, I don't think we have to worry about that. Ford's doing this for his friends—there's no way he's going to risk hurting any of them. He's under our complete control."

That was all it took to get Sawyer's heart racing. Christian _was_ talking about him, admitting that he was controlling him. There was just no way…

"I'm not sure. Well, between the two of us, we know where six of them are. As soon as we find Reyez…yes, I still think it's important that we put all seven of them in one place. No. I _know_ you don't agree with me, but-" Christian hesitated, like he'd been cut off, then said somewhat sourly, "We'll see about it. You could be right. I just don't think it's the right way to handle the situation."

Sawyer's fear was giving into anger: clearly Christian was discussing the Oceanic Seven with someone, plotting something with another person, behind his back, and using him. Just like Kate had been trying to warn him.

"He's been very useful so far—you were right: he was exactly what we needed to find the other six. Once we know where all seven of them are, I'm going to have him bring them back to headquarters--as far as I know, they still trust him, so there shouldn't be a problem. Yes, after that I think he'll be of no further use to us."

An electric jolt shot through him. He was being used. Totally taken for a ride, led to believe he was helping his friends, just so he could trap them and be disposed of later.

_I…I was an idiot._

Slowly, Sawyer began to move toward the kitchen, reaching into his jacket and taking out his gun, feeling his whole body shake with the fury that Christian's words had unleashed. He felt so incredibly angry, he wasn't sure he could control himself.

He arrived at the kitchen just in time to hear Christian say, "I believe that as long as we keep him away there shouldn't be a problem. Everything is going as planned." Then he looked up, saw Sawyer standing there, and said quickly, "I'll have to call you back. Thanks. Bye."

Christian set the phone down, smiling, "Welcome home. Everything all right with Austen?"

There was no way he was discussing Kate with this slimy, back-stabbing son of a bitch. Instead he asked, "Where's Loveless?" His voice sounded so dark and so angry that he could hardly believe it was his own.

But Christian didn't seem to notice, merely took a swig of scotch, "Oh, I sent him back to headquarters to do a few things for me. He told me you were following Austen—I'm a little surprised, seeing how I gave you the day off."

Sawyer just kept glaring at him. He couldn't believe how betrayed he felt, how incredibly unfair it was to trust someone, only to discover that he'd been their tool. He didn't want to admit that it hurt, but it did. He had had complete and utter faith in Christian, but it had been a mistake to think that Christian was like Jack in any respect.

"Is something wrong?" Christian asked. "It looks like something's bothering you. Want to talk about it?"

With one menacing step forward, Sawyer said, "There is somethin' I wanna' talk about, Chief."

"Go ahead. I'm listening." He seemed a little more wary now, and he glanced at the gun in Sawyer's hand.

"Who was that? On the phone just now—who were ya' talkin' to?"

"Just an associate. He's on another case right now, and I agreed to help him with it. That's why I haven't been around much." Christian poured himself a little more scotch. "Want a drink?"

With a single sweep of his hand, Sawyer knocked the bottle and the glass off the counter and they both shattered on the floor, glass and booze spraying everywhere, "Don't you lie ta' me!"

Christian stared up at him, like he couldn't believe that had just happened, like he had no idea what to say, "James-"

"And don't you 'James' me, either! I heard ya' talkin' 'bout me on the phone just now! 'Ford this' an' 'Ford that'! Now answer me!"

"James, you're out of control. Just-"

Angrier than ever, Sawyer stuck the gun in Christian's face, "You wanna' play games, old man? All right, we'll play your games!" He cocked the gun, just to show how serious he was. "You tell me right now—who were ya' talkin' to about me? What the hell're ya' usin' me for?"

Christian had his hands raised a little now and was staring at Sawyer, not blinking, just looking at him with that ice-cool, unruffled look, "James, calm down. Put the gun away and we can talk about this."

"I don't wanna' talk about it, Agent Bender! I want _you_ ta' answer _my_ question, and I want answers _right_ _now!_"

"I'm not using you for anything, James; not for anything you don't already know about. You've just got to trust me."

"I'm done trustin' you!"

"James, please. Get that gun out of my face. Believe me, if you shoot me you'll be sorry. Now here's the deal. We need to find Jarral and Reyez. Just bring them both here, and that'll be your last mission. Then I'll explain everything."'

"'Cause I won't be any use ta' ya' after that, am I right?" Sawyer snarled.

"That's not true, I-"

"I heard ya' say it, Christian, don't try ta' take it back!"

"It's not the way it sounded."

"Then how was it s'posed ta' sound?"

"Please, James, listen to me."

"Not until ya' say somethin' worth hearin'!"

"You're making a mistake!"

"Ya' better hope I am!"

"If you shoot me you'll hate yourself tomorrow!"

Sawyer set his teeth and dug the barrel of his gun into Christian's head, "Guess I'll hafta' tell Jack sorry."

Suddenly the front door burst open, and a second later Sawyer heard Muff shouting, "What the hell's going on?"

"Take him out!" Christian screamed.

Sawyer swung around, keeping his gun leveled at Christian, saw that Loveless was right beside the other agent. They were both staring, but only Muff had his gun out, and Sawyer was staring down the barrel of it.

"Don't move!" Sawyer shouted.

"You're outnumbered, James." Christian said, as if he couldn't count, "Just lay down the gun and listen to what I have to say."

"Your time's already up!"

"Ford," Muff warned, "I don't want to shoot you, but if you don't step away from the director…"

"Then shoot me!"

"Agent Ford, please." Loveless sounded almost like he was begging, and he still didn't have his gun out. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's a misunderstanding." Christian said.

"Misunderstandin' my ass. I'm gonna' kill ya', you cold sunnova bitch."

"You're not a killer, James. I know you're not."

"You're wrong, Chris; and you're about ta' find out just how wrong ya' are."

There was a loud bang and the sugar canister that had been sitting a couple inches from Sawyer's elbow exploded, white powder flying everywhere. Muff's gun was smoking. "That's how serious I am, Ford!"

Furious, Sawyer spun around, fired two shots, that went right between Muff and Loveless, passing right beside their ears and there was the sound of breaking glass from the other room.

Unfortunately, it was a mistake. He'd just assumed that Christian wasn't armed, which had been foolish on its own, but now he felt the cold bite of steel pressed to the back of his neck, and out of instinct his whole body went stiff.

"James, for the last time, drop the gun and nobody has to get hurt."

Sawyer felt his heart starting to race again, his palms sweating, face itching. He ground his teeth, glaring straight ahead. Slowly, he lowered his gun.

"Drop it." Christian ordered.

What next? Were they really going to shoot him? Maybe they'd take him into custody. Neither was any good in Sawyer's mind. There was just one hope for him—if Shephard still needed him to get the rest of the Oceanic Seven to one location then there was no way he was going to shoot him, no matter what he did. If he didn't need him that bad, and he did shoot him, then at least Sawyer would rather die than betray his friends.

Without warning, he broke away, running straight at Muff and Loveless. As he had suspected, there weren't any gunshots.

Christian yelled in frustration. "Stop him!"

Muff jumped out like he was going to catch Sawyer in his arms, but Loveless didn't move. He looked totally torn, his face drawn in a grimace. Sawyer went at Muff with his gun, hitting the shorter man in the side of the head with it, knocking him to the ground. By that time, Loveless had finally made the decision to reach for his gun, but he was too slow, and Sawyer rammed him with his shoulder, and he fell flat on his back.

Now Christian was closing in, yelling at Sawyer to stop.

Sawyer took a well-aimed shot at him, barely skimming the man's shoulder. He didn't _really_ want to kill Jack's father.

It was enough to make Shephard double over in pain, blood oozing from the wound.

The scream of sirens had started in the distance—neighbors had called the cops.

Sawyer had to get out of there, right then, or he'd be dead meat.

He leapt over Muff's unconscious body, just when Loveless was getting to his feet, and bolted back through the living room, kicking the garage door so hard it was knocked off it's hinges; then he threw open his car door.

Loveless and Christian were following him, shouting and making threats. He fired a few times at them, the bullets hitting the threshold of the door, raising dust and powder from the drywall.

It was just enough to deter them. Momentarily. Sawyer turned the key and the car roared to life. Not bothering to open the garage door, he threw the car in reverse and slammed on the accelerator. The little black car burst through the thin garage wall, blowing it to pieces, and he zipped down the driveway backward, swinging the steering wheel around and nearly backing into the fence that separated the agent's house from the next-door neighbor's yard.

People had gathered outside their houses to see what was going on. Across the street he caught a glimpse of Jack, Kate, Hurley and Aaron. They recognized him immediately and started yelling.

No time to waste.

Christian had come running out of the house. Loveless was right on his tail, screaming and waving his arms. Muff was after them, holding his head and staggering a little.

Christian took a shot, the bullet putting a hole in Sawyer's windshield.

And then the car was in drive, the pedal was to the medal, and Sawyer was off like a shot, tires squealing, rubber peeling, car smoking. He gunned it straight down the road, well exceeding the speed limit, and took a right turn so fast his car swung around into the oncoming lane. Another driver blew their horn at him, but he just kept driving.

The sirens were louder, coming closer. He saw red and blue lights up ahead of him. Behind him was Christian's white car.

Thinking quickly, Sawyer swerved across the lane, cutting the police cars off to make an illegal left turn. The cruisers slammed on their breaks so hard, the cars did a ninety-degree turn, blocking both lanes so there was no way for Christian to follow.

Sawyer kept driving, checking his mirror for anyone following him. He took another left and doubled back a little ways, then started taking streets at random, until he was good and deep in the neighborhood. Then, after he was positive no one was following him, he slowed down to a normal speed limit, took a few more, nonchalant turns, and got out onto the highway, leaving the agents, as well as his friends, far behind.

He drove a long, long time, keeping to back roads, constantly alert for any police cars or anything that resembled Christian's or Muff's cars. He kept the gun in one hand, just in case someone came out of nowhere and tried to stop him.

After he'd been driving about an hour, he stopped at a bank and withdrew enough money to keep him afloat for a few days-there was no way he'd be able to use a credit card or anything with the CIA looking for him-drove his black car into a back alley, made sure he had everything he needed from the glove compartment, and abandoned the car. It was LA—it would probably be stripped for parts in a matter of hours.

Sawyer used his cell phone to call a cab, had the driver take him to a cheap motel where he could lay low for a while and think things through. He checked in using an alias and went straight to his room to take a shower.

In away, he was in shock. He couldn't believe how quickly that had all happened. Just a few hours ago he'd been working with the CIA, and now he was on the run from them. Possibly for his life. He didn't know how hard it would be to avoid them, seeing how they'd found him once before, but he had to do his best.

Did this mean he was giving up on the case? No, not really. Kate and Jack and Hurley and the others were all still in danger, and to the best of his knowledge, he was the only one of them who knew enough to maybe get them out of it. He had to use what he knew and what resources he had to figure this mess out. Even if it was too late to save himself, he had to help the others.

When the sun had gone down, and Sawyer was fairly sure that no one had followed him, he left his motel, and walked over to a Wal-mart, where he bought some jeans and some t-shirts, along with a jacket, as well as a few groceries. Later he disposed of his old clothes, and looked in the mirror.

Now there was nothing left connecting him to the CIA. Every shred of the lie that had been 'Agent James Ford' was completely gone, and now, looking back at him from the cracked, dirty mirror was Sawyer, the con artist. A rogue. A liar. A killer.

Agent Shephard was going to be sorry he'd messed with him.

"What the hell was that all about?" Kate sighed, falling back into the living room recliner.

Hurley was already sitting on the couch, and Jack was pacing around the room, occasionally stopping to pull the curtain aside and look out the window.

"Dude…that was intense." Hurley said. "Did you see the way he like, blasted outta' there?"

"What were they all doing over at that house anyway?" Jack demanded suddenly.

Kate exchanged glances with Hurley. She didn't know how much he knew, but he didn't seem surprised like Jack did, so she got the feeling he had already known about the agents living across the street.

"I dunno, Dude. Guess your new neighbors are secret agents."

"Sawyer, my father, those other two agents, why the hell would-"

"Your father? Dude, which one's your father?"

"Christian Shephard." Kate explained. "The one with the gray hair."

"I knew it." Jack kept right on pacing. "I knew something was going on over there! All those cars, people leaving and coming back at all hours of the night. It wasn't normal! Damn that Sawyer!"

"Dude, it's not his fault."

Jack glared at Hurley, but Kate could easily see that he was more worried than angry, "What do you know about it, Hurley?"

Hurley started to open his mouth, like he was going to say something, but then stopped himself, shutting his lips tightly for a moment. "Nothin'. It's just that he was the one like, getting chased. It looks like he's in trouble."

With a sigh, Jack started pacing again, staring long and hard out the window. "That place is dead now. No lights. No noise. Nothing. It's like they just abandoned it."

"The police said there wasn't much there." Kate remembered. "It's like they were ready to pick up and leave whenever they had to."

"But what were they _doing_ there, Kate?"

She didn't know if she should answer that—she didn't know if it would hurt or help the situation for Jack and Hurley to know what Feist had told her.

After it had been quiet a few minutes, Hurley said, "Dudes… do you think they were like, spyin' on us."

"It's possible." She said quietly.

Suddenly, Jack kicked the coffee table over, "He said this had nothing to do with us! Dad and Sawyer _both_ said that whatever they're up to has nothing to do with us, so why would they be spying on us?"

Kate admonished, "Jack, calm down. We don't know anything for sure yet."

"I think they lied." Hurley said outright. "I think that whatever they're doing has a lot to do with us—that's the only thing that makes sense."

Slowly, Jack reached to set the coffee table upright again, picked up the stack of magazines that had been sitting on it, and then went back to pacing. "I just don't understand what's going on. Why didn't Sawyer tell us? If he's in trouble or something…why didn't he say something?"

"You know how he is." Kate couldn't help rolling her eyes. She thought back to the conversation she'd had with Sawyer earlier. Had he taken it to heart without her realizing it? Maybe he had tried to get out but Christian Shephard wouldn't let him. Did that mean the other agents were going to hunt him down? What if they tried to kill him? Part of her felt like this was all her fault.

Feist had told her that if she got involved it would mean trouble for Sawyer. Why hadn't she listened?

"So what now?" Hurley asked Jack

"What do you mean, 'what now'?"

"We're going to help Sawyer, right?"

Jack shook his head a little, "I don't see how we can."

"What? But your dad is like, his boss or whatever, right?"

"It's not that simple, Hurley. It's not like I can just call him up and ask whatever I want—I don't even know his number. Besides, you saw what I saw today; he's not going to tell me anything, even if I can get a hold of him."

"But what about Sawyer?"

Jack finally stopped pacing and let out a long, breathy sigh. "I hate to say it. But he's on his own."

Hurley started arguing with Jack after that, saying they had to do whatever it took to make sure their friend was okay, but Jack stood his ground, repeating over and over that there was nothing they could do.

Kate felt her cell phone vibrating and looked at the number. An unknown number?

Normally she might not answer it, but today it seemed like anything could be significant. "Hello?"  
"Hey. It's me."

_That voice…_

She stood up immediately, and Jack and Hurley both looked at her. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Kate." He sounded so tired. "I'm just great."

"Where are you?"  
"Just listen. I don't got much time ta' talk, but it's important."

"I'm not going to listen until you tell me where you are."

"Kate." Hurley whispered. "Isit Sawyer?"

"Give me the phone." Jack hissed, moving closer.

"Don't be stubborn, Freckles. What I've gotta' say's real important. Now listen: you've gotta' get outta' there."

"What do you mean?"

"Leave your house. Get away from Jack an' Aaron an' Hurley as soon as possible."

"But why?"

"I don't know why, but for some reason Shephard wanted ya'll -all of us, the Oceanic Seven-together. I don't know what he's plannin', and I don't wanna' know. All that matters is that you hafta' split up."

"Sawyer…"

"Let me talk to him." Jack insisted again.

"You know ya' gotta' go, Freckles. Don't tell him where you're goin' or why; take the kid somewhere he'll be safe—and most importantly, make sure nobody's followin' ya.'"

"But I can't." She felt like she was going to cry. "I just can't-"

Sawyer was quiet a long moment, like he was waiting for her to finish. "Ya' love him, right?"

Kate nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Yeah. Of course I do."

"And I know he loves you. And that's why ya' gotta' do this. As soon as possible—tonight if ya' can."

"But-"

"If ya' really love him, that's what ya' gotta' do."

"I can't."

"I know it's gonna' be tough for him ta' understand-he still thinks he can protect ya'-but you _have_ ta' do this. Whatever it takes."

"What are you going to do?"

Another long pause. "I don't know yet."

That was another lie. It was getting harder and harder for her to tell what _wasn't_ a lie. Maybe nothing he said was the truth. "But-"

"I don't got time ta' talk. Just get outta' there. Now."

"Please, just wait a minute. I-"

"One last thing, Freckles. If ya' do leave…_don't_ come lookin' for me."

"Sawyer!"

The other line went dead. She looked at her phone to confirm that she'd been disconnected, turned to Hurley and Jack, feeling like she was in a dream.

"Well?" Jack asked.

"He hung up on me." She felt tears threatening to fall down her face.

"What did he want?"

"Just…to tell me that he's okay."

Jack made a strange face, like he wasn't really buying what she said, "Kate…?"

And suddenly she just couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't stand there and look him in the eyes, the man she loved, and think about what Sawyer had said. She didn't want him to know that his father was more than likely an enemy, and she didn't want to leave him. But she believed Sawyer was right.

_You love him…that's why ya' gotta' do it._

Wasn't there some other way? Couldn't she stay with Jack?

For a long time, she stared up into his sweet, gentle eyes, not wanting to face what might and might not happen if she stayed, and then suddenly, she turned away, "I-I'm going to go up and take a shower."

"What did he really say, Kate?" Jack asked firmly.

She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. "I can't tell you."


	15. Chapter 15

Jack found Kate up in the bedroom, packing a suitcase. She had her back to him, and for a while didn't notice him. He leaned against the doorway, watching her a while before daring to ask, "What are you doing, Kate?"

She turned around, a little quickly, but she didn't look surprised to see him, and then simply went back to folding clothes and packing them. "Packing."

He laughed a little bitterly, under his breath, "Running again."

"No, Jack." Her voice seemed cold. "I'm not running."

"Then where are you going."

"Please don't ask me that."

"You're my fiancée, Kate." He shook his head a little, "I have to ask where you're going."

She didn't respond.

Jack sighed. "Did he tell you where he is?"

"I'm not going to look for him."

"Then where are you going?"

"Just away for a little while."

He was quiet a little longer, still just watching her, and then he said, "You can't help him, Kate. None of us can help him."

She glared. "Is that all you're going to say? You think you know everything, don't you, Jack? I'm not leaving because of him, I'm leaving because of _you_."

The words broke something inside of him, and for the longest time all he could do was just stare at her, mouth hanging open as he struggled to find something to say.

Kate just turned back to her packing.

What had brought them to this point? Was it because he'd never apologized for the argument they'd had earlier? Was it because of something he couldn't even remember? What was going on?

"Kate…" he started toward her, "Wait."

She slammed the suitcase shut and pushed past him.

"Kate!" Jack grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me, Jack." She wouldn't even look at him.

God. What had he done to…

"Let's just talk about this. Wait a second."

"There's nothing to talk about." With that, she wrenched away and thundered down the stairs, lugging the suitcase with her.

Jack ran after her, calling her name, all but begging her to stay. Hurley was still on the couch, watching TV with Aaron, but he looked up when they came into the room.

"Why can't we just talk about this, Kate? Just tell me what this is about!"

"Please, just leave me alone, all right, Jack?"

"Dudes, what's going on?"

They both ignored him, and Kate went over to crouch beside Aaron, "Sweetheart, let's get your jacket."

"You can't take him!" Jack shouted, suddenly angry. "Kate, did you hear me?"

She totally ignored him, just took Aaron by the hand and led him over to the closet to retrieve his coat.

"Kate!"

Hurley got up and followed them, "What's going on?" He asked again.

Kate was helping Aaron into his jacket.

"Where're we going, Mommy?" the little boy asked.

"Just for a little trip."

"You can't take him!" Jack yelled again. "You can't leave! Not without explaining yourself! I won't let you!"

She barely looked at him, "We're not married yet, Jack. I can leave when I want."

"But not for him! Please, Kate, you can't! Don't…" he felt like he was going to break down and cry. He couldn't be losing her. Not again. "Don't leave me…" He begged, voice cracking.

Kate lingered by the door, still holding Aaron's hand, and then slowly turned to him, sliding her free hand up his chest to his chin. For a few moments, they just stared into each other's eyes, and he felt like she was searching his very soul. She said softly, "I love you, Jack."

He felt his breath trembling, his eyes burning, "I-I can't lose you. Not again."

She leaned up to him, standing on her tiptoes to reach his mouth with hers, and his tongue was engulfed in that wonderful taste of her, all too briefly. When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes, "You're not going to lose me."

Then, clearing her throat, she took a step back, smiled down at Aaron, "Say goodbye to Daddy, Sweetie."

Aaron darted forward to wrap his arms around Jack's waist, and it was all Jack could do to touch the boy's hair.

Then they were both gone, just like that. Out the door. He heard the car start, saw the lights disappear down the street and around the corner. After that, there was only darkness.

"Dude." Hurley said, when it had been quiet a moment. "What was that all about?"

"That idiot." Jack muttered at first. But as the anger started to grow and stretch inside of him, he couldn't quite contain it. "That idiot! That stupid bastard!" He spun around, punching the wall. "I can't believe him!"

"Who? Sawyer?"

"Yes, Sawyer! Who else? Who else could get to Kate like that? I don't know what he said to her, but whatever it was… God damn him!"

"Yeah, but Dude, don't you think he knows what he's doing?" Hurley followed Jack as he began to march back down the hall, mouth burning with all the things he wanted to say.

"You saw him today, Hurley—did it _look_ like he knows what he's doing?"

"Uh. No. But-"

"He's not going to get away with this—not again! I won't let him!" Jack got out his cell phone and found Sawyer's number. He didn't know if it was the same number he'd had before or if he could even reach him, but he didn't care. He was so angry he could barely see straight, and whether or not he actually got a hold of Sawyer didn't matter very much.

The phone rang a few times, and then there was a voicemail.

Jack screamed into the phone, "Sawyer, you asshole! Where is she? What the hell did you say to her? You'd better answer your goddamn phone! I'm not going to let you… I will _not_ let you do this to us! You think that every time you come to town you can just take her? _You can't_!"

He ended the call there, since he was on the edge of making a death threat, threw the phone across the room where it hit a wall and broke into several pieces.

"Dude," Hurley said softly, "calm down."

Barely restraining a sob, Jack broke down, leaning on the wall and covering his face.

_This can't be happening. It just can't._

Sawyer listened to his voicemail grimly. Apparently Kate had done what he told her to do. He wondered where she was going and how it was going to affect Jack, but there wasn't any time to look into it. He had other things to do, the first being, getting rid of his old cell phone and buying a new one.

The next morning, Sawyer got up early enough that the sun was just barely rising. He took everything he had and checked out of the motel and started walking. It was probably stupid to be walking like that, since the CIA could likely sneak up on him easier, but he didn't think there would be much point in calling a cab since he didn't know where he was going. If he could, he wanted to find as many answers as he could on his own, but the problem with that was he had no idea where to look.

After he'd been walking about an hour, he stopped at a corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ever since getting off the island he'd been smoking off and on, when he was stressed or bored or whatever. There was just so much going on right now, he needed something to soothe his nerves, and if the cigs would do the trick then that's what he'd do.

While he was in the store, he casually asked the cashier about seeing Sayid or Benjamin Linus. The man hadn't seen either of them—of course. LA was a huge city, what was the chance of anyone he knew just wandering into the right corner store? He thanked the cashier anyway and went on his way.

It seemed like the only real option he had was to find Sayid again. Chances of finding Ben were so damn slight that he didn't bother hoping that he'd just bump into him, but since he'd been running into Sayid here and there as he'd been doing whatever Christian wanted, it seemed much more likely that they'd see each other. Maybe if they had a common goal. Like if he looked for Sun or something. Or he could start tailing one of the other Oceanic Seven. Kate or Hurley or someone. That seemed risky though, since the CIA would be watching them, and would notice if someone suspicious was following them.

The only other thing he could think of was to just hunt Sayid down. Forget about wandering around the city, just hoping to run into him, this called for a concise course of action. He wasn't going to get anywhere being stagnant, and there wasn't much time to put his hope in fate. Long ago he'd figured out that fate was a cold bitch who wasn't going to toss him any bones.

So Sawyer went into a grocery store and bought a small go-phone, and then, finally, called a cab.

He didn't know an exact address, but he remembered the general location of the club Sayid had taken Jack to a few days ago, and if he could just get back there, there was a chance he'd find some answers. He told the cab driver to drop him off at the gym where Sayid had grabbed Jack in the first place, and then set off on foot again.

Now that he was back in the same neighborhood where the other agents were bound to be, he felt even more nervous, checked multiple times to make sure his sunglasses were on right, and kept looking around as he walked down the road. He was well aware that if any of them were nearby and the recognized him, they'd be on him in an instant.

But he wasn't going with them like a little kid. He was going to put up a fight, because he hated being used, and he was never going to forgive them for pretending to be his friends and then turning on him. He'd sooner shoot them than listen to whatever bullshit they had to say.

It took a long time to walk to the club, but he remembered the way fairly well, and he was able to stay the course and make his way back through alleys and unused roads to finally find it.

Something about the weird, empty parking lot was peaceful at that time of the morning. There was a single car parked there, and it was dead silent. No music, no voices. Even the sounds of the city-cars and horns and train whistles-seemed so far away he barely noticed them.

Sawyer stayed hidden in the shadows for a while, watching to make sure it was safe, and then, with one last cautious look around, he touched his gun and ran across the lot and to the small, beat up door, half-expecting it to be locked.

The knob was a little stiff, but it opened, and Sawyer stood there a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. The place was extremely ghetto, but Sawyer wasn't sure why that surprised him. The lights were dim, and everything, from the floor to the furniture, had this worn, used look. The biggest surprise was that it was open in the first place. After all, it wasn't even ten o'clock yet, and this place had all the appearances of a bar.

Of course, Sawyer assumed as he walked in, that it wasn't a bar at all, but was some sort of secret headquarters that was shaped to look like a bar, just in case a curious passerby dropped in to look around. The whole idea reeked of Ben, and Sawyer realized that this could be a huge mistake. It could easily turn out to be a trap, and he'd be walking right into whatever Ben had planned for him. That wasn't enough to make him turn around though. This was the closest thing he had to a lead, and there was no way he was going to just run away simply because this might be dangerous.

He strode forward, brimming with confidence, not daring to let anyone see that he was nervous. Not that there were many people to notice. The only sign of life was a bury barkeeper, standing behind the bar, a phone in one hand and a pen in the other. He barely glanced at Sawyer as he slid onto a bar stool and sat there, toying with his lighter.

The man was evidently in the middle of what seemed to be a personal call, discussing how business had been lately and who he had and hadn't seen. It was a fairly typical conversation, and Sawyer tuned it out somewhat quickly, lit another cigarette and puffed on it a while, thinking his next move over. He'd ask this guy what he could about Sayid and see if there was any way for him to get some answers. If that fell through and this turned out to be a dead end, he'd have to look elsewhere for his answers. There was a small possibility that, with Hurley's help, he could find the motel Sayid had taken Hurley to and then track Ben and Sayid from there. Of course, there were varying problems with that, one being that he wasn't sure he wanted to get Hurley involved, because he didn't want to put him in danger. Maybe if he could just get Hurley to remember where it was he could go find it on his own.

The bartender put the phone down and cleared his throat.

Sawyer looked up at him, a little startled.

The man regarded him with a cocked eyebrow, "Somethin' I can do for you, buddy?"

"Got a beer?"

For a moment, the bartender seemed like he wasn't sure what to do. Obviously he wasn't used to getting customers this early in the day, but he just shrugged and turned to get Sawyer's beer. "I ain't one to judge paying customers, but ain't it a little early for a drink, Mister?"

Not answering, Sawyer took the bottle and took a swig from it. The beer tasted a little stale, but he didn't say anything about that. Instead he cut right to the chase, "Actually I'm here lookin' for someone."

"You don't say. A friend?"

"Sorta'. Ain't seen him in a while, but I heard he hangs out here sometimes."

"Well, if he hangs out here I'll know 'im. Sure you noticed, but this place ain't exactly mainstream." The man grinned a little.

"He's an Iraqi, little shorter than me, facial hair. He-"

"They all look the same to me; he got a name?"

Sawyer nodded, taking another drink from his beer, "Name's Sayid. Sayid Jarral."

The barkeeper's eyebrows etched together, like the mention of that name bothered him, and he glanced quickly off his left shoulder, like he was looking for instructions from someone, but then he looked back at Sawyer and shook his head somewhat vigorously, "Sorry, pal. I ain't heard of any Sayid. And believe me, if he was a regular, I'd know him."

Sawyer was so practiced at lying, he could detect a lie as well as he could tell one himself, and he was fairly sure that the barkeeper was lying to him, trying to hide that he really did know Sayid. Normally, he might have let it go and looked for another route to take, but this time around he really didn't feel like playing games. "You sure about that? I saw him here myself not that long ago."

"Pretty sure. When was that?"

"Few days. Not even a week. He was here with another guy—white guy with short, dark hair and an honest face. Maybe you remember him?"

"Not really. Look buddy, I own this joint. I run it every day; it's my life, and I remember the faces of my customers, so either this guy was a one time who dropped in to check my place out and decided not to come back, or you're making this all up. Either way, I don't know any Sayid Jarral."

"Oh, I think ya' know him, Martini, and I ain't in the mood to play games with ya', so maybe ya' better just tell me the truth."

"What is this, a joke? You a cop or somethin'?"

"Ya' gotta' be a cop ta' not appreciate someone' lyin' to ya'?"

"For the last time, it ain't a lie." The barkeeper gave him another disgruntled look, and then turned and started to walk away, "Enjoy your beer, buddy."

Sawyer watched him go, and then stared down at his beer, "Damn." That hadn't worked out the way he'd planned at all, and he was still sure that the guy was hiding something from him. He knew Sayid had been here with Jack, not that long ago. Was it possible that the barkeeper really didn't know Sayid? There had to be some way to figure this out; if he just thought it through he was sure he'd come to some kind of conclusion.

He noticed the bartender looking at him from around the corner. He ducked back again when he saw that Sawyer saw him, but it was enough time for Sawyer to see that the man was speaking into a cell phone.

With an inward groan, Sawyer downed a little more booze, "So much for thinkin' it through." There was no telling who the guy was calling, but it definitely wasn't smart to wait and find out. Even on the off chance that he was calling Sayid, Sawyer didn't want Sayid to just waltz in and start asking _him_ questions. No matter what happened, he had to try to keep the element of surprise on his side, because at the moment it was the only advantage he had.

So, he slammed his beer down on the counter, deposited a couple dollars, and headed back to the front door, turning his collar up, and left without a word.

As Sawyer walked along the road, he kept thinking about what he could do now. If he was right, and Sayid really did frequent this bar, then there was a chance he'd be coming back to it at some point. Logically, if that were true, it seemed that Sawyer could stake the bar out and watch for Sayid, and then follow him when he showed up. But if he did that, he might have to get a motel nearby, not to mention a car, and the CIA was probably still running around this area, keeping a specific eye open for him. If he ran into any of them-even if it was just Loveless-it was game set and match to them, and who knew what that might mean for him. At this point, he was guessing it was death. Or imprisonment.

Once he'd gotten a good distance from the bar, Sawyer hailed a taxi cab and gave him Jack's address. Kate was definitely gone, and Jack was likely at work. With a little luck, Hurley would be there alone, and maybe he could get the big guy to cooperate with him. It was worth a shot.

The cabbie Sawyer wound up with was strangely friendly, and overly chatting. For the first few minutes of the trip, all he would talk about was his wife and his children. At first Sawyer thought it was just a ploy to get a large tip, or something like that, but after a while he decided the man just really loved his family. Something about that made Sawyer think of Jack and Kate and Aaron, and something about _that_ made him feel too guilty for words.

After the man had been discussing his home life for a while, he began asking Sawyer questions about his. If he had children, if he was married, if he had a girlfriend, and then when Sawyer answered no to all three, the cabbie was quiet a while.

"Well, sir." he said after a few minutes of silence had passed. "It sounds like you have a very lonely life."

Something about that statement actually touched Sawyer, and he pondered it. Was his life lonely? He'd never thought of it as being lonely—there were always whores, friends to buy him drinks, pretty people to con, everything he needed to survive. But now, in the face of everything that had happened in his life, Sawyer was starting to see that the whores' company was empty, the friends were fake, an all the drinks and money in the world couldn't make up for the loneliness. He'd realized it after meeting Kate and Jack and the others, and now it was a fact he just couldn't seem to shake. His life was lonely. Very lonely. There was so very little to live for, and yet he was too strong-willed and stubborn to die. He wondered if it would always be like this.

"Yeah, guess so." He muttered.

"Don't worry." The cabbie said cheerfully, "You're still young, I'm sure there's someone out there for you. Things will get better."

Sawyer couldn't help rolling his eyes, "Yeah. Thanks a lot, Mr. Brightside."

The cab driver chuckled and started to reply, but there was a squeal of tires that ripped through the air, shattering the calm of the morning, and Sawyer whipped his head around to look out the back window, just in time to see a small, white car turn out onto the street from a side road and start speeding right toward the cab.

"Crazy sonnova bitch." The cabbie muttered.

The car climbed speeds quickly and was right beside the cab almost instantly, swerving dangerously close, tires actually crossing the line that separated the lanes.

"Better just let him pass."

Sawyer felt the cab slow down, but it didn't seem to affect the other driver in any way, other than that the white car slowed down as well, still swerving. He stared hard at the car, trying to see the driver, but the windows were so darkly tinted, it was impossible to make out any details. He only perceived a very vague silhouette, and nothing more.

"Go around, go around!" The cab driver called, motioning with his hand for the other driver to pass him.

It had no affect.

Sawyer kept staring at the other car, unable to get over the idea that something about it was very familiar.

"Hey." He snapped at last. "Next street ya' come to, make a turn, don't matter which direction."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it."

The cabbie shrugged.

"And speed up a little."

"If you say so."

The cab's speed increased, but the white car dogged them, and the cabbie muttered a slough of obscenities, while Sawyer kept both eyes on the car harassing them. Without really thinking about it, he tightened his grip on his gun.

Up ahead he saw a right turn. That was perfect—if they could just make it there, they might be able to get away from the white car. If not…

_If it comes to a fight least I got a gun._

Sawyer heard the cabbie flip the turn signal on, felt the car start to drift off to the right, kept both eyes on the suspicious white car anyway.

And then, just when they were about to make the turn, it happened. The passenger's window came down just a little, so that Sawyer couldn't quite see who was inside, and then he was looking at the dark, open barrel of a gun.

Time sped up immediately, and Sawyer felt like there was no way he could move fast enough. He pulled his own gun out, yelling at the cab driver, "Get down!" Then there was a familiar, mind-numbing pop; he heard glass shatter and felt the car lurch to the side. Another pop and he felt pain in his arm. The cab was spinning out of control, drifting off to the right side of the road, whirling around in 360 after 360, and then it came to a sudden stop as it ran headlong into a telephone pole. Sparks showered down, Sawyer jolted forward, his head slamming up against the passenger's seat so hard it knocked him out for a few minutes. When he came to, he was sitting there, tangled in his seatbelt, blood gushing down from his forehead and his left arm. He saw that there was a bright spray of blood all across the shattered windshield, and the cab driver was slumped over in his seat, eyes and mouth gaping open. He was dead. Cars were slowing down as they passed. Some had already stopped and Sawyer heard voices mixed with sirens. He looked around frantically for his gun, saw that it was on the floor and struggled to reach it, but the seatbelt was locked, and the release button was jammed.

He had to get out of this car somehow. He had to get away before the cops came, or worse yet, before the white car came back and its owner decided to finish him off. He spent a few, panicked seconds trying to get to his gun, thrashing back and forth, jiggling the seatbelt mechanism to no avail. Sawyer touched his hand to his head and it came back slick with blood. He cussed profusely and kicked the seat in front of him, but it was no use. He was going to die this time.


	16. Chapter 16

Jack looked at the charts and said to the nurse, "How's he doing?"

"He seems to be doing all right, other than some head trauma and a bullet wound, minor scrapes and bruises. Over all, it should be a full recovery."

Jack kept flipping through the charts, examining the report on his own, trying to figure out what this was all about. Everything was so fuzzy now—his father being alive, the CIA snooping around, Kate just taking off, Sawyer showing up like this. What did it all mean?

For a while, the nurse studied him, and then she cleared her throat, "Um, excuse me, Dr. Shephard, but do you know him?"

He barely glanced at her, nodding.

"I see. In that case, I'll just excuse myself, Doctor."

Absently, he nodded again, and then sank down in the chair beside the bed to stare at Sawyer. He'd been brought in a couple hours ago, but Jack hadn't found out about it until just ten minutes ago, and so of course he'd come as quickly as he could to see if he could get any answers. At the very least, Sawyer might know where Kate was.

Of course, in his condition, his friend wasn't going to be of much use. Not until he woke up any way, so Jack had no choice but to sit there and wonder what the hell was going on. Not twenty four hours ago, Sawyer was ripping out of the driveway across the street, CIA agents, as well as Jacks' own father, right on his bumper, and now here he was, in the hospital, with no one who could give Jack an accurate description of what had happened to him. Whatever it was, clearly there was shooting involved. But who would be shooting at Sawyer, and why? Were they going to keep coming after him or did the think he was dead? Jack was impatient for the con to wake up, even though he knew that the chance of Sawyer actually having answers was very slim. He probably couldn't even remember what had happened, let alone who might have done it or why.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down in the chair next to the bed and studied his friend's face. It seemed like every time he saw him he was a little more banged up. Whatever was happening, Sawyer hadn't told him anything about it yet, and Jack knew it was too much to hope for that this time would be different, but he couldn't really imagine leaving Sawyer here like this, in this kind of shape. Especially if someone was looking for him; whatever had happened, Jack knew that someone wanted Sawyer dead.

The agents? But why? What the hell was going on? All anyone ever told him was that it had nothing to do with him and Kate, that it was all just a misunderstanding and they weren't involved, but the longer this went on, the more Jack felt like they were involved, if only because Sawyer was their friend. He also felt like everyone around him knew more than he did, Kate and Hurley included.

Why else would Kate leave like that? She said it had nothing to do with Sawyer, but he didn't believe that either, and if Sawyer was turning up in the hospital he didn't want to imagine what might happen to Kate.

Sawyer muttered in his sleep and tossed his head slowly. It looked like he was finally coming to.

"Sawyer?" Jack reached out and put a hand on his friend's arm, "Sawyer, can you hear me? C'mon, man, wake up."

Jack watched as his eyes slowly flickered open, and then he just laid there for a moment with that stunned 'where am I' look Jack was so familiar with. Normally, he was tolerant with patients, because waking up in the hospital couldn't be easy, but since this particular patient was Sawyer, and since he might be the only one who knew where Kate was or what the hell was going on, Jack felt like he couldn't afford to be patient. He felt like they were running out of time.

"Where 'm I?" Sawyer muttered.

"In the hospital." Jack tried to stay calm. After all, there was no point snapping at Sawyer. He was injured. Jack knew he had to try to stay understanding.

"Hospital…?" Slowly he looked at Jack, "What th' hell're _you_ doin' here?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here? This is my hospital."

"'Course." Sawyer snorted. "Th' whole world falls apart, but the good doctor keeps right on goin' to work. They oughta' make ya' a saint, Jack."

Honestly, injured or not, Jack was not in the mood to hear Sawyer's complaints or to have him scoff at his work ethic or his morals or anything else. "How did you get here?"

"Those your doctor pajamas? Cute."

"I asked you a question, Sawyer. How did you get here?"

"Prolly brought me in the ambulance…that's how it normally happens, ain't it?"

Jack was really starting to feel his patience bending, "I mean what happened to you?"

Sawyer tilted his head up and looked down at himself for a while, like he was assessing the damage, and then he sank back into the pillow, "Hate ta' tell ya' this, Jack'O, but I think your daddy tried ta' kill me."

"What?" Jack stared at him, not wanting to believe he had just heard that. Yesterday he'd seen Christian chasing Sawyer, and there had been gunshots, but he hadn't figured Christian was trying to _kill_ Sawyer. That didn't make any sense. Not when they were supposed to be on the same side and everything. "That's impossible."

"Wish ya' were right, Doc. I don't wanna' believe it either…but it's th' truth."

"How do you _know_?"

"I just know."

"Did you see him?"

Sawyer didn't answer; he just toyed with the pulse monitor on his index finger.

"Well? Did you see him or not?"

"Look, Jack." Sawyer sighed. "For the last week he's been drivin' a little, white, Mazda six, the same kinda' car that tried ta' run me off the road. Who else could it be?"

"There's more than one Mazda six in the world, Sawyer. Did you actually _see_ my father?"

"Didn't have to. I know it was him."

"_How _do you know?" Jack was beginning to feel like they weren't getting anywhere with this conversation. It was like going around and around in circles.

"He tried ta' kill me yesterday, that's how." Sawyer's voice took a hard edge. "Jack, I know ya' don't wanna' think your dad's like that, but-"

"He's _not_ like that. My father is a good man, Sawyer; he's the chief of surgery. He-"

"He _was_ the chief of surgery. Or he said he was anyway. But he ain't no more; hate ta' break it to ya', Jacky, but Daddy's prob'ly been workin' for the CIA a long, long time."

"It doesn't matter." Jack growled. "He wouldn't try to kill you. He doesn't have it in him to kill anyone. I know it. So unless you actually saw him trying to kill you, I won't believe it."

Sawyer sighed, "It's not my problem what ya' do an' don't wanna' believe, Jack."

"Where's Kate? What happened yesterday? Why were you over at that house in the first place?" All the sudden, all the questions he'd meant to ask were coming back to him, and he wasn't going to dance around with Sawyer anymore. "I want some answers, Sawyer, and I want them now. What is really going on with you? What does it have to do with us?"

"Fine." Sawyer snorted. "If that's what ya' want, guess I don't got a reason ta'-"

"Excuse me, Doctor?"

Jack reluctantly turned away from Sawyer to look at the nurse. She was standing there in the doorway, looking somewhat uncertain, "There's a man here to see you."

"Who?"

She shrugged, "I'm not sure. He says his name is Christian."

"Christian?"

The nurse nodded, "He's waiting out at the end of the hall."

Jack started to get up, but Sawyer grabbed his wrist, arresting his full attention immediately, and hissed, "Listen ta' me, Doc. Don't go talk ta' that bastard—I know ya' don't wanna' believe me, but you've gotta' get away from him. Ya' can't trust him, Doc."

Jack stared into his friend's eyes, not sure what to say. Obviously Sawyer was pretty doped up on painkillers, and he was under a lot of stress, and probably scared, so needless to say his thinking wasn't perfectly clear, but for some reason Jack felt like he should listen to him. He didn't know for sure if Christian had tried to kill Sawyer, but even if he hadn't the whole situation was just too iffy for him to trust his father whole-heartedly.

Trying to be reassuring, Jack put a hand on Sawyer's shoulder, "All right. Don't worry. I'll be careful."

"Ya'd better be a damn lot more than just careful, Doc."

Jack pried loose and started walking toward the door, the nurse giving them both a weird look, "Just relax. I'll be right back."

Sawyer muttered something cynical, but Jack couldn't quite make it out. It didn't matter anyway.

He followed the nurse down the hall. It was pretty empty, which was unusual for this time of day, and he spotted Christian right away, standing off to the side near the exit of the emergency center, looking around like he'd never been in this hospital before. Everyone was ignoring him right now, but Jack didn't even want to imagine the complications that would emerge if someone Christian knew came along and recognized him.

The thought made him hurry up.

"Ah, Jack." Christian held out his hand to shake, "Good to see you. I hope it's all right for me to stop by—I was going to come during lunch hours, but I had some business to tend to."

Business. That could mean anything. It _could _mean attempting to kill Sawyer.

Jack took his father's hand and shook it, but he kept his gaze on his eyes, looking for any telltale sign that he was there to cause harm. They were the same somewhat cold, but familiar eyes he'd always known, and he was smiling.

"What are you doing here, Dad?"

"I just came by to visit."

"Is it okay for you to do that?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, it's just…that…you used to work here."

"Oh, yes, that. I think it should be fine as long as I don't encounter anyone I knew in my previous life. For that reason, this will have to be brief. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I'm glad you came."

"Well isn't that nice."

Jack tried to hold his ground. He wasn't going to let Christian charm him with his buddy-buddy, father-son act. "This isn't a friendly chat—I have some important questions I want to ask, and I really need the right answers."

Christian frowned slightly, "Really? I thought we were past all that? I really came just to see you, you know?"

Jack dwelled on that. It wasn't something Christian would normally do. It wasn't anything he had ever done before. It wasn't like him to just come by, to just seek Jack out so he could see him. Was it possible that Christian was different now? Maybe he wanted to try to renew their relationship and get back on track as father and son.

"Well, anyway, if you have questions I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to ask them. What's on your mind, son?"

"What happened yesterday, Dad? What were you and Sawyer and the other guys doing over there?"

The frown deepened, "Oh, you saw that did you. I was hoping you might have missed it somehow."

Right. Like Jack could have missed the racing cars and gunfire. "Well I did see. And I want to know what it was about."

" I told you that I was going to have some of my men watching you—for your own good of course."

"You did say that. But you didn't say you were going to have them stake out my house and spy on me."

"Well, that's not what they were doing."

"How do I know that? You won't tell me anything, Sawyer won't tell me anything-"  
"Sawyer? Have you spoken to him since yesterday?"

Jack hesitated just a moment. He didn't know why he should lie about it, but he got the distinct feeling that he should, so he shook his head.

"I see."

"Dad, how can I trust you if you're not going to tell me the truth about what's going on? Why can't you just be honest with me? Why were you all there yesterday?"

"Jack." Christian sighed, "I'm sorry you got all involved with this. It's definitely not what I wanted for you; but you've got to understand that there's a lot going on that's bigger than any of us. It's not something I can solve by snapping my fingers."

"That's not what I'm asking. I want to know what this case is about and what I have to do with it. What does any of this have to do with us?"

"For the last time, Jack, nothing. Two of my men were there keeping an eye on you and Kate as a measure of precaution. I went to visit."

"And Sawyer? What does this have to do with him?"

"We're partners in the case—he went with me, naturally."

"And left like a bat out of hell. What was _that_ about? Did he decide he couldn't trust you."

Christian was silent for a moment, "I don't understand what you're getting at."

Jack studied his father's face, trying to convince himself that he could trust him, but he knew that as long as Christian continued to dodge his questions and refused to tell him the truth, he really couldn't. He knew that Sawyer could be right.

"Why kind of car are you driving, Dad? Is it the Jag?"

Christian looked back at him slyly, "Why are you asking about my car, son?"

"Rumor has it you own a white Mazda six too."

"A lot of people at work own Mazdas. And a lot of them are white."

That was enough to make Jack think that Christian at least knew what had happened to Sawyer. Even if he hadn't been directly responsible.

In light of that though, Jack realized that mentioning the car might have been a mistake, since it was an indication that he knew about the incident, and therefore had talked to Sawyer.

He wasn't sure what to say next. This conversation was getting no where fast, and he was starting to think that Christian hadn't come just to see him at all.

Jack noticed that his father's gaze was focused over his shoulder, like something there had caught his eye. He looked over his shoulder, but there were just some nurses clustered at the other end of the hall, talking.

"So." Christian said casually, "Have you seen any sign of James since yesterday?"

"Sawyer? No. I haven't. Why, did you lose him?"

"Lose isn't really the word."

"And you're still not going to tell me why he left like that yesterday?"

Christian seemed reluctant, "Oh, he got upset about something he overheard. He thinks he knows what's going on but really he has no idea. I suppose it just…freaked him out."

Jack thought about that. Sawyer wasn't the kind of person who 'freaked out.' Sometimes he lost his temper and did something stupid because of it, but other than that, he was normally perfectly capable of staying calm, no matter what the circumstances were. Jack wondered what he could have overheard that would upset him so bad. Or was Christian just saying that to mislead him?

He looked at Christian for a while, trying to decipher it all, and then, suddenly, his father smiled, "Let's end this charade now, shall we, Jack?"

"Charade? I don't understand. What-"

"I know Sawyer is here."

"Sawyer? Sawyer's not here."

"Oh, he is. Don't pretend I don't know. He's down the hall as we speak, in that room you came out of."

Jack gaped at him, struggling to find something to say that would convince Christian he was wrong, but in the end, all he managed to croak out was, "How do you know?"

"In my line of work? Please, Jack, be serious. I've made it my business to know where he is. And before you say it, no, I'm not the one who put him here. In fact, I'm disappointed to find him here, because it simply confirms all my fears."

"What fears?"

"No time to explain. I need to speak with him immediately. Is he awake."

Jack shook his head. He didn't know why he felt like he should lie about that when he had so insistently argued with Sawyer, but assuming he was wrong, this would at least buy him some time."

"I see." Christian frowned, eyes roaming back down the hall toward the room where Sawyer was. "That's too bad. Well, when he does wake up, give me a call. It's important that I take him back to headquarters immediately."

"Right. Well." Jack watched as Christian got out a business card and scrawled his number on the back of it. "You know he won't be able to leave until he's been discharged."

Christian's eyes narrowed, but he said, "No, of course not." Then handed Jack the card.

As Jack was reaching to take it, Christian suddenly grabbed his arm, "Make sure you _do_ call me, Jack. James is in grave danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"I can't discuss details, for obvious reasons, but believe me, someone _is _trying to kill him."

Jack started to ask more questions, but Christian released him, slapped his back and said sincerely, "Have a nice day, son; keep in touch." And then he turned and left without another word.

After that, Jack looked down at the business card, seeing what seemed to be a cell phone number written on the back of it. He tucked it away, looked over his shoulder one last time, and returned to Sawyer's room.

The minute he was in, Sawyer was asking questions, "Did ya' see him? What did he want? What did ya' tell him?"

Jack sighed. Suddenly he felt really tired. "It was definitely him."  
"What did he want?"

"He was looking for you."

"Me? How the hell did he know I was here?"

Jack shrugged, "He just said it was his business to know."

"Great." Sawyer snorted, "Know what that means?"

"How can you be so sure he's trying to kill you?" Jack asked carefully. Admittedly, he wasn't sure Christian wasn't trying to kill Sawyer, but he thought he should have an informed opinion on the matter for when Christian came back in a few days.

"Look where I am. What'dya' think Professor?"

Sighing, Jack sat down again, "It's just not enough. Just because _someone_ tried to kill you doesn't necessarily mean it was my father. You've got to have some other reason for thinking that."

Sawyer seemed irritated, "Alright, look, Jack, I don't got any proof it was him, but it all adds up ta' me. After what happened yesterday…and then today with the attempt on my life. Besides, I heard him on the phone talkin' ta' someone." Sawyer ran a hand through his hair, like the memory distressed him, "Said somethin' 'bout me bein' under their complete control, about not bein' useful anymore…I dunno', Doc."

That actually bothered Jack. It seemed to be further proof that his father really did have a hand in what had happened to Sawyer, "Any idea who he was talking to?"

"He didn't say."

Jack sat back and thought. It was just more distressing news, and it put him in a difficult position, because now he didn't know who to listen to. He wanted to trust his father. After all, they were getting a second chance to be the father and son they had never been before, and he didn't want anything to screw that up. At the same time though, he was reluctant to turn his back on his friend when he might really need his help. "Why don't you tell me about this case now? What's it about? What are you actually doing for the CIA?"

Sawyer moaned, "Doc, I'd rather not get you involved in this."

"I'm already involved. I just want to know what's going on with you. You're not part of the CIA…so what are you doing?"

"Don't matter now."

"It _does_ matter, Sawyer." Jack was beginning to really feel frustrated.

"Why? I left the damn organization; truth is, I don't really know what's happenin' either, Jack, an' now I'm out ta' find my own answers. That's all I can tell ya'."

"I don't believe you. I don't believe you don't know anything else, and I don't understand why you don't want to tell me anything."

"It's complicated."

"I don't care how damn complicated it is! I deserve to know."

Sawyer shook his head a little, but didn't say anything.

"Where's Kate?" Jack demanded softly, doing his best to control his anger, but he felt like he couldn't.

Still Sawyer was quiet.

"Sawyer, _where_ is Kate? Why did you tell her to leave? Why did you call her?"

"Quit your screamin', Doc." Sawyer glared at him, "You wanna' know the truth? I told Kate ta' get away from you, because it ain't safe for ya'll to be together right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talkin' about. The Oceanic Seven, Jack. We gotta' be scarce for a while, an' we definitely shouldn't all be together in one place. There were four of ya' at your house, now there's only two. If I were you, I'd disappear for a while, tell Hugo to do the same."

Jack stared at him, dumbfounded. So this all had to do with the Oceanic Seven? Had Sayid been right? "Sayid told me that he thinks Widmore hired members of the CIA to hunt us down and kill us. Is that true?"

Sawyer hesitated, but then he nodded, "Yeah. That's what they told me."

"But you don't know which agents they are?"

"No."

"And now you think maybe my father is one?"

"It's not impossible."

Jack thought for a while. "What are _you_ doing?" He demanded at last.

"What'dya' mean?"

"I'm just not clear on your purpose in all this. If you knew about this then why are you with the CIA? Why wouldn't you be as far from them as possible?"

Sawyer just looked at him.

"You're one of the Oceanic Seven too, Sawyer. If it is Widmore then he's after you too."

"Naw, really? You're a regular Sherlock, Jack."

Jack let that breeze by. "They're using you, aren't they?"

"Not anymore."

It all made sense now. Jack felt like he could finally understand what had been happening over the last couple of weeks, how Sawyer kept popping up out of nowhere, why he wouldn't tell him anything. Well…almost all of it made sense now.

"But why you? What were they actually trying to make you do?"

"Don't really know."

Was that a lie? Was there still something he didn't want Jack to know about? If so, what could it be.

"Really Doc, I can't tell ya' much else."

The same old wall. But Jack wasn't going to let it stop him this time, "Not much else, but there has to be something useful. Just tell me what you _do_ know. All of it."

"Jack, I don't think-"

"I'm tired of this Sawyer. I've got just as much at stake as you do-if not more-my family, my friends, even my father, they're all involved in this. I deserve to know everything you know."

Sawyer didn't respond right away, and Jack thought he could see fear in his eyes. Whatever the CIA had done to make him cooperate must have been something that really scared him. "Fine." He said at last, "I'll tell ya' everythin' I know. Will that make ya' happy?"

Jack just nodded.

Sawyer sighed, "Few months ago, your father-"

There was a knock at the door, and the nurse said, "Dr. Shephard? Sorry to interrupt again, but the patient in room 102 is awake now. We thought you might like to go have a look at her."

Jack had to struggle to contain his frustration, suppressed a sigh, kept his eyes on Sawyer as he said, "All right, thanks."

He heard her walk away.

Sawyer said, "You better go, Doc."

Jack lingered. He was so close. So, so close to understanding it all.

"Do your job, Jack."

Slowly, he started to back toward the door, "When I get back…"

"When ya' get back I'll tell ya' everythin' I know."

"You'd better."

"Promise."

It was only after he'd heard that word that Jack finally turned and walked out of the room.

He spent the rest of the day working hard. The patient in 102 was just the beginning. There were a lot of patients recovering from surgery or prepping for it that needed his attention and reassurance. He went from room to room, checking on them all, putting on his doctor's smile and his best bedside manner, but all day he was distracted by the thought of what was going on around him. When he went in to perform surgeries he had to concentrate harder than usual just so he wouldn't make a mistake because he was thinking about something else.

As time wore on, he began to feel frustrated and impatient. Every time he set out to go back and talk to Sawyer something else would come up and he'd have to turn his attention to that instead. In fact, the most he got to do was go past Sawyer's room just once. He hesitated there for a few seconds, wondering if there was any time at all, but Sawyer looked like he was sleeping, so Jack decided not to bother him and went on his way.

It wasn't until later, when Jack was clocking out to go home that he finally got a chance to go and see Sawyer. He didn't even stop to change out of his scrubs, but went directly back to Sawyer's room, determined to get the answers he deserved. There was no way he was going to be denied or ignored or rebuffed this time. He was going to figure this all out, and then he was going to fix it.

The only problem was, when he got back, Sawyer was gone.

Kate

* * *

Kate gave Aaron one last hug, and then she forced herself to stand up and go for the door. "Thanks, Margo."

"You're welcome honey. Wave goodbye to mommy, precious."

Aaron waved dismally. Kate could see from his expression that he was upset that she was leaving him, but she had already made all the promises she could, insisting that she'd be back soon, and now there was nothing else she could do.

It had been hard coming up with a plausible excuse to give Margo Shephard for why she was leaving Aaron with her, but she'd eventually come up with something; whether or not her future mother-in-law believed her didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was willing to take care of Aaron for a few days, and Kate was free to do whatever she had to do to help Sawyer.

She had said she wasn't going to look for him, but the more she thought about it, the less inclined she felt to just sit back and wait for him to turn up dead. She hadn't promised not to look for him or anything. Besides, he might be expecting her to disregard that order anyway. He probably knew she wasn't going to stick to it and who knew, he might be counting on her.

Whatever the case, she had to do whatever she could to help him. Between what Agent Feist had said and what she'd witnessed yesterday, Sawyer seemed to be in quite a bit of trouble. Bad trouble. And if there was anything she could do to help him she had to try.

Kate walked back to her car quickly, thinking about Jack. She didn't know where he was-probably just getting home from work or something-but he was probably driving himself crazy wondering where she was and why she'd left. He'd said he couldn't stand to watch her leave, and she knew that she was risking a lot by walking out on him so coldly, and she hated herself for taking that risk, but she had to. She'd done all she could to tell him she'd be back, without telling him what she was doing. Kate wished she could have told him that this was for him, that she was just trying to protect him, but that was impossible.

At any rate, if she was going to be alone until further notice, she had to focus on something to keep her from regretting leaving the man she loved like that. So she had opted to look for Sawyer. Maybe if she could help him they could resolve all this and then she could just go back to Jack.

Kate got in her car and sat there in the dark a moment, just thinking, trying to block out Jack's lost, confused face as she walked out on him, trying to focus on Sawyer. Where would he go? Did he have friends he could stay with? No. Not Sawyer. The other Oceanic Seven were the only friends he had in the world.

_What a sad life._

Well, if he didn't have friends where could he go? To a hotel or something. But which one? He probably wouldn't pick just one to spend an extended period of time in; if he was smart, he was moving from motel to motel, only going there at night to sleep, doing God knew what during the day.

Someone knocked on her passenger side window, and Kate looked up, startled to see Amber Feist letting herself into the car.

"You. What are you-"

Feist looked somewhat angry, but her voice was hushed, "What are _you_ doing, Austen?"

"I'm not doing anything. Just dropping my son off at his grandma's house. What are _you_ doing? You can't just let yourself into someone's car, I don't care if you're part of the CIA.

Feist didn't stop glaring, "I told you not to get involved with Sawyer. Why did you?"

Kate didn't answer right away. Now she could see that meeting with Sawyer had been a mistake, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. She had thought she could help him. But she didn't remember what had made her think that. "What do you want?" She asked at once. "If you're just here to scold me for a decision I made do me a favor and spare me. If not, I'd like to go home to my fiancé."

"Don't lie to me, you're not going home to your fiancé."

Kate glared at her, "What are you talking about?"

"I have Sawyer's cell phone bugged—I know he told you to get away from Jack."

"What?"

"Of course. I've been keeping an eye on him…up until he disappeared yesterday. I heard him tell you not to look for him either, so now I'll ask again, what are you doing, Kate?"

Kate felt indignant. This woman was just so arrogant and smug, thinking she knew everything, like she had it all figured out.

"I don't care what he said. If there's any way I can help him I've got to try."

Feist shook her head, "Don't you understand? If you try to help James you'll only endanger him further. All Widmore needs to do is get his hands on one of you and the rest will be helpless. If you really want to help James and protect Jack you've got to stay out of this and stay away from them."

"I can't do that."

"Look, Kate, I know you think you're helping, but all you're doing is putting both of them, as well as the rest of the O7 in more danger. Is that really what you want?"

"Hey, Lady, I don't know who you think you are, but we've all been through a lot together, and we don't just leave each other behind like that. I don't care what you say, and I don't care what he said. I'm not going to let him face this alone."

Feist was quiet a long, long time, just sitting there, looking at Kate, like she didn't know what to say and Kate thought she'd never say anything, and she'd never get out of her car. They'd both just sit there for the rest of the night, and in the meantime, Sawyer was in danger, and Jack was confused and worried.

At last, the agent said, "Fine. I can see you're going to be stubborn about this. If you really insist on going to look for Sawyer that's fine, I can't stop you, but at least let me come with you."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, whether you want to believe it or not, you're not going to be able to do this alone. You'll end up killed. Or worse."

Kate started to object, but Feist stopped her, saying softly in the dark, "I just want to help, Kate. If you want to protect your friends and save James, you've got to trust me. If not…"

The rest was implied.

* * *

**I'm baack!!! And I apologize for taking 4ish months to update; I just wasn't feeling the motivation. But I'm pretty into Lost right now, and hopefully that'll last long enough to carry me into season six, and then I'll be able to actually finish this thing.  
Thanks for sticking with me, guys. :)**

**-S-17**


	17. Chapter 17

Christian paced back and forth in his apartment, stirring his glass of scotch in one hand but not drinking it. Occasionally he'd pause to look out the window, stare into the sun for a while, like he was thinking about something, and then he'd go right back to pacing, with a sigh. "It's all falling apart." He mumbled, every now and again.

Loveless watched him from behind his sunglasses, not sure what to say. It didn't seem like there was anything appropriate. Nothing right to say. Nothing wrong to say. But he knew Christian was right—everything was falling apart.

Beside him, Muff was toying with his gun, taking the clip out and then putting it back in, shining it with a rag, watching Christian pace and pretending not to. He was nervous too. They were all nervous, and with good reason.

Loveless had joined this mission because the Oceanic Seven had interested him ever since they'd been rescued. He remembered reading about them on the internet, their miraculous story inspirational to his young mind and heart. He'd always been one to crave adventure, ever since he was a kid all he'd wanted was to be a cop, chasing down bad guys, rescuing the girl, having shoot-outs and coming out on top in the end. It was no surprise to anyone who knew him that he'd eventually wound up with the CIA, although he knew that he wasn't necessarily agent material and never had been. If his uncle hadn't been an agent first he might have never gotten the job and might have wound up being a regular cop for the rest of his life, and he was sure by now that the excitement and the adventure he wanted so badly was never going to come his way. Not like it had for the Oceanic Seven. They had a memory, an adventure behind them so big they'd never forget it, and even now, back in the real world, the danger wasn't over for them. It might not ever be over for them, and all Loveless wanted to do was to somehow take part in that excitement, to be a component of that incredible adventure that was following them all over.

Now it looked like it might be too late. They'd lost track of most of the Oceanic Seven: Shephard was still going to work on a regular basis, as best they could tell, but Austen, her son, and Reyez were no where to be found, Kwon had disappeared too, and the last member of the O7, the one Loveless knew nothing about, hadn't turned up anywhere. To make things worse, now James was gone too. All of them were in danger, very few of them knew it, and there was no way for Loveless to help.

But the worst part was that James had disappeared. For a long time Loveless had suspected that 'Agent Ford' was actually one of the Oceanic Seven, and he'd even confirmed it in his own way; that had made him unbelievably important to what Christian was trying to accomplish, but Loveless had never thought Christian had any kind of dark agenda. Until now.

Christian Shephard was, in Loveless' eyes, a great man. A brilliant leader, full of charisma, calm and passionate, intelligent. Just the type they needed for this mission. He'd never had any reason to distrust him. Now though, Ford had run off, to God knew where, trying to accomplish God knew what, and all Loveless could figure out was that it had to do with Christian. Ford must have overheard something or discovered something to make him feel like he couldn't trust Christian. Above all else, Loveless admired Ford's instincts. He always seemed to know what he should do, and even if he failed in what he was told to do, he had this cool, calm demeanor to him. Something that said that no matter how bad he messed up, it was still okay. He'd make it work.

In fact, Loveless had never seen him freak out until yesterday, and it had thrown him. It made him wonder what in the world Ford knew that made him so positive that Christian couldn't be trusted.

If Ford didn't trust Christian Shephard, should _he_ trust him?

He continued to watch the senior agent with his eyes, not saying anything, trying to gage by his expression and actions whether or not he was doing what he said he was trying to do. But nothing Christian had said or done indicated ill-intent. Nothing was revealed in those cold eyes.

Christian was his boss, his friend and his leader. He had always trusted him before. He'd joined this little task force not only to learn more about the Oceanic Seven, but because he wanted to work with Christian Shephard. He felt like he could learn from him. But even more important than the sense of adventure was Loveless' desire to do the right thing, to always air on the side of justice, regardless of what it meant for himself. If Christian was really out to harm the Oceanic Seven, if he was one of the agents who'd been corrupted by the promise of money, Loveless knew he couldn't stay and continue to follow orders.

Nothing made sense and everything was up in the air. There were no guarantees and no one to tell him the truth. No one he could be one hundred percent positive was trustworthy. That left him in a difficult predicament. He could go on trusting Christian and hunt down James Ford like he was supposed to, but if it turned out Christian had been lying and that he wanted to hurt the Oceanic Seven Loveless knew he'd be kicking himself later for helping hurt Ford and his friends. Still, if he decided he couldn't trust Christian where did that leave him? He couldn't abandon the task force. It was his duty to see this through to the end, and it was his duty to help the Oceanic Seven in any way possible.

Loveless knew that maybe now was the time to stop following so trustingly, to stop believing whatever his superiors told him. Now might be the time to finally act on his own, seize the adventure he wanted so badly, and take charge of his own affairs.

Now might be the time to finally step up and be a leader.

* * *

"Damn 'm stupid."

It wasn't something he said very often, not to himself and not to anyone else, because he had never felt stupid before. At least not a lot. Sure, there had been times when he'd been sort of an idiot or when he'd made a mistake, but he was anything but stupid. Or he always had been before.

As Sawyer made his way down the street, getting further and further from Jack's hospital, he felt anything but smart. First he'd been idiotic enough to play into the CIA's hands, to agree to do whatever they wanted when all this time he'd been a man who couldn't be blackmailed, bought or tied down. That had been his first dumb move. The second had been to trust Christian.

But it was so easy, so damn easy, to trust that man with Jack's face, with that calm, even voice. Why? What was it about Christian Shephard that made people want to believe he was telling the truth? Sawyer remembered sitting in the bar in Sydney with him, just listening as he rambled about messing up and correcting mistakes, being strong or being weak, doing whatever it took to ease the pain, even if it was something bad, and for some reason Sawyer had drank it all in like the whiskey he was hitting.

Another stupid decision. Listening to Christian had been the deciding factor that had made him go back and kill the innocent proprietor of the shrimp truck. Great move.

Well, he'd gone long enough being strung along, doing whatever he was told, believing whatever Christian said. Evidently Christian Shephard was nothing like his son. Jack at least was genuine, and even though they'd clashed a lot while on the island, Sawyer had never found much of a reason to distrust him. Except for maybe when he'd brought Juliet back to the beach with him, but even that had proven to be in the group's best interest.

Of course, Christian had told him he was nothing like Jack. Why should he be surprised to discover that it was true?

Sawyer rubbed his head and then crossed the street; a car blazing by nearly hit him and honked the horn. Someone screamed at him.

Just one more stupid move.

Leaving the hospital was probably the only smart thing he'd done all day. He'd been stupid to tell Jack anything-he should have known better than to get the doctor anymore involved-and he'd been stupid to stay there. He should have left the moment he woke up.

Unfortunately it had taken him a few hours to figure that out, and then he'd left as quickly as he could. It had been easy enough to find his clothes and sneak out when the nurses weren't looking, and then no one had tried to stop him. Jack was going to be angry when he went back to the room and found him missing after he'd promised to tell him everything, but it didn't really matter. Christian knew where he was, and he had to avoid him confronting him again. He might not be so lucky as to escape a second time.

Then again, wandering through the streets of LA with head trauma and his other wounds probably wasn't brilliant either.

_Better than dyin'._

It was a cold, somewhat gray day for California, and the clouds above looked like an indication of rain. Sawyer could taste blood in his mouth, wiped his lips and rubbed his forehead again. His hand was shaking pretty bad, his skull was pounding and he was seeing double. His torso ached too, but he didn't think anything was really wrong with it. Maybe a fractured rib from the crash. Nothing that was going to keep him down for long. It was more important that he find answers than it was to lie around in a hospital bed. It could be days, even weeks before they discharged him. Especially if Jack had anything to say about it. By then it would be too late to save Kate or anyone else.

At this rate, Sawyer knew it might be too late to save himself, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. As the only one who knew what was happening, it was up to him to get to the bottom of this mess. If that pitted him against Christian and Hudson and Ben and even Widmore himself then so be it.

The biggest problem obviously was where to find his answers. It was still possible to go back to Hurley and see if he could remember where Sayid had taken him. At the very least he had to try to get Sun some place safe. It was a risk going to Jack's house though. The doctor would be out of work soon, and then he'd be heading home too.

The urge to go find Kate was so powerful he could barely stand it. There was no one he wanted by his side more right now than her. But he knew that involving any of the Oceanic Seven would be a mistake. This was something he'd have to figure out by himself.

Sawyer took a turn around a condemned building with boarded up windows and continued on his way down a dark sidewalk. He coughed a little into his fist and then looked down when he felt something wet, was horrified to see that it was blood.

"Great." He moaned, wiping it on his jeans. Maybe that was what the pain in his stomach was about.

It could be nothing. He could just have some blood in his mouth and throat, or he might have internal bleeding. Either way, it was a good thing he'd gotten out of the hospital. It would have been a long time before they discharged him.

He was pretty deep in the inner city now, an underworld of gang activity and drug addicts. He passed shady alley after shady alley and had to step around bums and individuals who looked just as dark and dangerous as he was.

Sawyer went around another corner and hesitated.

The street was completely empty, and everything was unnaturally silent. No cars or people, not so much as one panhandling hobo. It was eerie for the middle of LA, but he couldn't let it bother him. He had to find somewhere to hole up for the night, somewhere Christian wasn't going to find him.

Swallowing the nervousness, Sawyer continued on his way, keeping his eyes open for any sign of danger, kicked a can on accident and jumped as it clattered across the sidewalk.

He took a deep breath, "Get a grip, boy."

"That's right, James." Purred a familiar, black voice, "Just relax."

Sawyer spun around just in time to witness Hudson emerging from the alley he'd passed. He was wearing his regular black and white suit, but now he was smiling. Not that it mattered—he still looked angry and dangerous, his teeth sharp like a piranha's. His scar looked gruesome in the faded sunlight.

Clenching his fists, Sawyer backed down just a step. Behind him he heard a noise, turned and saw Agents Wagner and Pool coming down the street toward him.

"Howdy boys." Sawyer drawled, struggling to remain calm, "What brings ya'll to this side of town?"

"Social call." Hudson said smoothly, coming forward.

"That so? Wish I'd known ya'll were comin', Boss. I'da made coffee."

Hudson's grin widened, making him look even meaner, and he was close enough now that Sawyer could have spit on him. "That's right, James. Be brave."

Sawyer reached back for the gun he'd been keeping in the back of his jeans, but didn't find it, and then he realized they must have taken it when he'd gone to the hospital. Good thing he'd left when he had, or he might have been hauled off to jail.

None of that mattered right then though. Hudson was closing in, his boys were getting closer, and unless Sawyer thought of something he was going to get hauled off anyway. Probably to somewhere a lot worse than jail.

"So Dirty Harry, what do I owe this visit to?"

"Still being the smart ass I see. I warned you over and over, James, gave you one fair chance after another. I was more than merciful. But now that you've gone and failed on your end of the deal I'm afraid I have no choice but to do exactly as I promised."  
"What makes ya' think I'm slackin' on my end, Boss?"

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Ford. I know exactly what's going on. Unfortunately for you, it's exactly what I warned you not to do."

Sawyer thought frantically for a way out of this. He didn't have a gun, and there were three of them; he was already in enough pain that a fist fight would probably not go in his favor. Still, he refused to believe that this was the end for him. That just wasn't possible.

"And just what're ya' gonna' do about it, Sarge? I ain't exactly plannin' on hoppin' in the car with you."

"No, no. I realize you're much too stupid for that. However, I doubt very much that there's anything you can do to stop us. You messed up, Ford, and you're going to pay for your mistakes. Every. Last. One."

Sawyer stayed calm. Maybe if he could distract Hudson long enough it would present him with an opportunity to escape. Or maybe if he made him angry enough Hudson would let his guard down and make a mistake; fooling all three of them would be the hard part.

He smiled. It was important to appear completely confident, "Let's not lie ta' each other anymore, Tommy Boy. Just fess up—you're Widmore's main man, aint'cha'? You and your boys are the ones getting' the scraps from his table."

Hudson didn't seem amused, "You think you're so clever. Unfortunately, James, all the fancy tricks and smooth talk in the world isn't going to save you, and Christian's not here to save your ass this time. You're dead meat, plain and simple, and once I've got my hands on one of the Oceanic Seven, I'm sure the others will be more than willing to walk into my hands like a lamb."

Sawyer's heart flinched at that. So that had been the plan this whole time? Hudson had been waiting for this opportunity. "There's no way they're gonna' do what ya' expect. They don't even know where I am, how can they-"

Hudson laughed, "I think you misunderstand me. You're of no use to me, James, because there is no one in this whole, wide world who gives a damn about you. As bait, you're completely worthless. However, you _do_ know where the other six are-I know you do-and I'm sure you can be persuaded to share with me. Maybe you can even be persuaded to share with me the whereabouts of Miss Austen."

Sawyer felt the rage bubbling up; he growled, "You leave her alone, Hudson."

"But don't you see? She's the key to this little game. I've known all along that if I kept you close you'd mess up-that's all you ever do is mess up-and then you'd lead me to Austen. With her in my custody, Jack Shephard will be forced to leave the watchful protection of his father and the rest of the CIA, and since he is your ever-trusted leader, the others will follow him to me.

"As for you, James, as for you, _Sawyer_." He pulled out what looked like a high-powered taser, "As soon as you tell me where Austen is, there will be no more point to your existence. You're completely expendable."

Sawyer didn't want to hear anymore, and he wasn't going to wait for Hudson to attack. Maybe if he struck fast enough he could catch Hudson off guard, find an opportunity to kill him. Or at least an opening to escape. He rushed at Hudson, swinging his fist with all his might and hitting him as hard as he could, square in the face.

The blow was strong enough to make Hudson stagger back, just as the other two agents came at Sawyer, fists ready.

He ducked the first swing and hit one of the agents in the gut-he still didn't know who was who-caught the other in the side of the head, knocking him to the side. By that time, the other man was already recovered, coming at Sawyer, he hit him with his whole body, jarring him back. Sawyer's next fist hit the man right in the nose, breaking it, and blood splattered everywhere. The agent screamed and stumbled back, holding his face. The other surged forward, ready to fight. For a few moments, they threw blow after blow, some hitting and some glancing off. One particularly strong punch got Sawyer square in the forehead, sending a sudden jolt of hot pain up into his skull; he saw a parade of stars and strange colors before everything went black.

Moments later, he came to, lying on his back on the cold sidewalk, the three of them standing over him; Hudson looked furious, a thread of blood running down the middle of his face. "Get him up!" He shouted. "Get him up!"

Obediently, Wagner and Pool reached down to drag Sawyer up by his arms.

He fought, shouting and kicking, trying to pull loose, but Hudson hauled back and punched him right in the stomach, making the pain that had been there all day even worse.

Sawyer coughed, blood and spit clinging to his mouth, but Hudson hit him again, and then again, in the ribs and in the face, beating him down like a dog as the other two held him steady.

Angrier than ever, Sawyer launched himself to the side, swinging the two bigger men around as best he could. He managed to slam one of them against the wall pretty hard, and then wrenched away from the other. He dove at Hudson just as the big man was coming at him again, striking him in the gut.

It was just like hitting a brick wall. The blow as ineffective, and Hudson clothes-lined him with one beefy arm.

Sawyer hit the ground like a bag of concrete, lay there a few seconds, writhing and trying to figure out what to do next. His nose was just a few inches from the gutter, and even though his eyesight was all but gone in his left eye, he made out the bright shimmer of a large, glass bottle. He reached out with a bleeding hand and took it by the neck, then leapt back up as lithely as he could, but he knew he was slowing down.

He twisted back like he was going to pitch in a baseball game and hit the agent closest to him, right on the head. The bottle shattered, green shards of glass sparkling as they exploded everywhere, and the man slumped to the ground without so much as a sound. The other one backed away just a little.

Sawyer went at Hudson again, using the now broken bottle to attack, jabbing at him, slashing, trying to cut into his arms or chest, stabbing toward his face in hopes of at least blinding him.

Hudson stepped away from him, doing his best to avoid being impaled, but Sawyer got him once in the shoulder. The man shouted in rage and pain, and then fury clouded his eyes worse than ever, making them seem black as the night sky. He stepped in toward Sawyer, twisting to the side and just barely avoiding being stabbed in the stomach with the glass bottle. Hudson hit Sawyer in the chest with his taser, and a sudden, painful shock of electricity sped through him, blowing him back, knocking him on the ground once more, where he landed on a large chunk of glass. It cut into his right shoulder blade, creating a whole new slice of hot pain and ripping his shirt and jacket. What little was left of the bottle broke, and then he was looking down the black muzzle of a gun; beyond that was Hudson's anger-wrought face.

"Do it." Sawyer sputtered. "Better do it now, 'cause I ain't never gonna' tell ya' where they are, and if ya' don't kill me now, I swear ta' God I'll kill _you_ later."

For the first time, one of the other agents spoke, "Wait, sir, don't! You said we need him alive!"

"Shaddup, Pool! There's no point keeping this bastard alive if he's not going to cooperate!"

Sawyer just stared at the gun. He knew he should have been afraid, but he wasn't. He didn't care about dying—it had been such a long time since he had something to live for. At least if he was dead this bastard couldn't use him to hurt the others.

Hudson cocked the gun.

Just a few more seconds, then this would all be over.

Sawyer heard the squealing of tires and a few gunshots. The pistol went flying out of Hudson's hand and hit the wall, going off and ricocheting off a nearby street sign.

"Goddammit!" Hudson shouted, holding his hand.

A black car skidded up and stopped on the side of the road, swerving a little. The car door opened and Sayid got out, a high-powered hand gun pointed right at Hudson.

Sawyer stared at him, incredulous that he'd come at the exact right moment.

"Get up." Sayid barked, not looking at Sawyer.

Slowly, Sawyer forced himself to rise. His limbs felt like wet noodles, and his gut was twisted like he was going to throw up. He expected that at any moment he was going to pass out again, but he managed to get to his feet, staggering a little and moaning.

Sayid stepped forward, placing himself just a little in front of Sawyer, "Get in the car." He ordered softly.

Hesitantly, Sawyer studied him. It was a tough choice to make, but didn't it make more sense to get in the car with someone who had once been his friend than it did to stay there and be killed by someone who was definitely an enemy?

Again, he looked at the agents.

Hudson and Pool were just standing there, glaring at him. Hudson had never looked so angry before, like if he got half a chance he'd kill Sawyer with his bare hands. It wasn't something Sawyer wanted to face. Especially not right then.

He started backing toward the car, keeping his eyes on the agents.

Hudson spoke, voice dripping with hatred, black with ill-intent, "Run away then, boy. Your little Arab friend won't always be around to protect you. Count on that."

Sawyer didn't hear anything else he had to say. In another moment, he was in the car, sinking into the comfortable leather of the back seat, the windows so tinted that everyone else looked like a shadowy shape. Then Sayid got in, still holding his gun leveled at them. He shut the door quickly and sped away.

Sawyer stared out the window until he couldn't see the agents anymore, and then he looked at Sayid. This seemed to be less of a rescue and more of a whole new issue he had to try to get out of. Sayid was an old friend, but he was also, apparently, working for Benjamin Linus. Sawyer knew better to trust Ben, and therefore how could he possibly trust Sayid?

At the moment, Sayid was digging through the glove compartment, keeping one eye on the road. After a few moments, he reached back to hand Sawyer a pile of extra napkins. "For your face." He explained, looking at Sawyer in the rearview mirror.

Sawyer accepted them without a word and dabbed at his mouth and nose. He coughed into the napkin once and saw that there was even more blood than before.

To distract himself from that, he said, "I didn't need your help, Sayid, I had it all under control."

"From my perspective, you had a gun pointed at your head and were about to die."

"Yeah, well that's your perspective."

"Who was that man?" Sayid asked at length. "The man who was trying to kill you. Was he working with you in the CIA?"

"I ain't got nothin' ta' do with the damn CIA." Sawyer muttered, looking out the window.

"I see. Apparently though, they have something to do with you. Apparently they want you dead. Perhaps you know why."

"Nope. No idea. They're after us all, best I can figure."

"What about your superior? What exactly is he after?"

Sawyer didn't want to think about Christian ever again, so he changed the subject, "Why don't ya' tell me what makes ya' think I should trust you, Achmon? If I remember correctly, last time we met ya' weren't that much nicer ta' me than that asshole was."

"I apologize for that, Sawyer, but I could not allow you or anyone else to stand in the way of my objective."

"Now ya' expect me ta' buy your lame apology? What, you think that's gonna' buy ya' my trust?"

"Not at all, although, I must admit, it would be helpful if you did trust me. However, I do not intend to let your distrust of me interfere with what I must do. To be fair, I don't exactly trust you either."

Sawyer muttered, "Right. Guess that puts us back where we started."

For a while they were quiet. He went back to tending his new injuries, cleaning the blood from his face the best he could and thinking. After a while he asked, "How'd ya' find me anyway? Ya' showed up just in time—that's pretty convenient, don't ya' think?"

"If you're suggesting that I am somehow in league with those men and that this rescue was a ruse improvised to manipulate you, then I can only feel flattered that you consider me that creative. Fortunately for you, I've been following you since yesterday."

"Followin' me?" Sawyer felt caught between outrage and gratitude. At the same time, he felt foolish for not realizing he was being tailed.

"Yes, that's right. Today, I never would have stepped in if it hadn't been for the gun—I was hoping to follow those men back to a headquarters of some kind, but when I saw that they were going to kill you I thought it might be best to simply speak with you instead."

Sawyer didn't like the sound of that. Sayid's past profession as an interrogator didn't make 'speaking' with him all that appealing. "I don't know much." He said calmly.

"I'm sure you know enough to help."

"And what about _you_ Sayid? What do you know?"

"I don't understand."

"Hurley told me you're workin' for Ben, now-"

"Hurely? When did you speak with him?"

"Don't matter. If you're really workin' for Ben you must know somethin' I don't. Care ta' tell me what it is?"

Sayid was quiet for a long moment. "I'm afraid I don't have the answers you want." He said at last. "However, Ben will likely be willing to answer your questions."

Sawyer spat some blood out, "Oh ya' think so? I don't trust that guy, Sayid, and I don't wanna' hear nothin' he has ta' say."

"I'm sorry to hear that Sawyer. You don't have a choice at the moment."

"What the hell's that s'posed ta' mean?"

"It means we're going to see him right now."

"Say what?"

"I'm taking you to see him immediately."

Sawyer's heart started to hammer again. Earlier, admittedly, he'd been looking for Sayid so that he could get some answers about Ben; he wouldn't have even minded running into Ben somewhere. But this was different: he was in Sayid's car, Sayid had a gun and was taking him to Ben. He was in their control now, and unless he got away, he might wind up being in as bad of shape as he would have with Hudson. He did want to talk to Ben and Sayid, but he wanted to do it on his own terms.

"Stop the car." He ordered.

Sayid looked at him mildly in the mirror. "Whatever for?"

"I ain't seein' Ben, Sayid. I've got nothin' ta' say to that lying, slimy bastard."

"Sawyer, I understand that you're upset, however-"

"I don't want none of your bullshit, Sayid. Just stop the damn car."

"No."

Sayid rolled through a stop sign. Obviously he had no intention of stopping for anything.

Sawyer was starting to worry. If he couldn't get away and Sayid actually took him to Ben, he wouldn't be able to protect Kate or any of the others. He wasn't going to let his own weakness stand in the way.

Ahead of them he saw a traffic light switching from green to yellow. Sayid cursed under his breath. Sawyer felt the car accelerate. The crazy bastard wasn't even going to stop for a red light.

Sure enough, Sayid attempted to breeze right through the red light, swerving through the cross traffic. Horns blared and tires squealed.

"You outta' your mind?" Sawyer yelled. "Sayid, stop this goddamn car!"

Sayid ignored him, going straight for another light. This time a small car darted out in front of them, and Sayid was forced to slam on his brakes and wrench the wheel to the side, making the car spin out. They skidded to a halt, narrowly missing a collision with a fire hydrant.

Sawyer took the opportunity to escape. He kicked his door open and jumped out, running for all he was worth across the street, heading for an alley way.

He heard Sayid get out behind him, "Sawyer, stop!"

"Yeah right." He mumbled.

Sawyer kept running, taking corners at random, jumping over chain link fences and pushing past people. He wove through crowds and ran across busy streets, sometimes nearly being run over by a car. For a while, he heard Sayid running behind him, shouting for him to stop, but Sawyer made sure he never so much as looked back. He went through every obstacle he came across, knocking down trashcans and piles of debris to slow Sayid down. He doubled back several times and made sure he didn't follow any specific pattern as he raced down the streets.

Sayid was good about staying with him though, and Sawyer began to worry he'd never be able to get away.

At last, he ran into a large department store, pushing people aside as they gaped at his bloodied face and trying to blend in with the crowd. He made his way quickly to the back room and let himself in. Several employees were there, and they yelled at him, but he ignored them and headed straight for the door. Outside there was a line of delivery trucks all ready to go, exhaust spewing from their tailpipes. He jumped up onto the hood of one, ignoring the screaming driver, clambered up to the top of the rig, and jumped for the fire escape, climbed as fast as he could to the roof of the next building, and kept right on running, jumping from building to building as best as he could.

He knew he was slowing down now. His body hurt all over-not any kind of deathly pain, but enough to hinder his progress-his head ached, his vision was blurred and he was breathing hard. He didn't hear Sayid behind him anymore, but it didn't matter. He just wanted to run forever, get away from Sayid and Hudson and Christian and everything else, go back to his simple life of conning and stealing. After he'd gone along the rooftops for a good ways, he jumped down into an open dumpster, landing in the soft trash, and scrambled out. He ran the rest of the way to the subway station and got on the first train he saw.

He didn't know where he was going to go now. It seemed like the whole world was out hunting him. Between Christian and Hudson and Sayid and Ben, it was like he didn't have any friends to turn to, no one he could really trust.

It might be time to finally go and explain everything to the only people who were going to be on his side no matter what.

* * *

Eventually, he got off the train and just walked a while, keeping his eyes open for any sign of Hudson or Sayid. He watched for Christian too, knowing that he could easily pop up out of nowhere, just like the other two had.

The walk was long, but it was peaceful. He kept to the back roads and less traveled ways and no one confronted him.

Before long, the weather started to pick up, and then, by the time he got back to Jack's house, it was pouring rain.

Sawyer knew better than to walk right down the main street, since agents were sure to be watching Jack's house, so he cut through people's back yards and climbed over their fences. He had to deal with a few dogs, but no one saw him, and before long, he was in Jack's backyard. He marched up to the back door and knocked on it as hard as he could.

No one answered, so he knocked again. It was only eight o'clock, so he had to be home, and there was no way he was in bed.

Still there was nothing, and he started to worry that maybe no one was home. If that was the case what should he do? Go away and come back later? Break in and wait for someone to show up?

"C'mon." He pounded even harder on the door. "C'mon. Jack! Jack, open this damn door!"

At last a light came on. Sawyer kept knocking until the door was actually open and Jack was looking at him with wide, confused eyes from the other side.

"You…"

Sawyer stared at him, the rain dripping from his hair and off his skin, just stood there not knowing what else to do. "Well." He muttered at last, "Gonna' let me in?"

Jack opened the door, and Sawyer went in quickly, looking around for any sign that someone else was there.

"Where did you go today?" Jack demanded, following him. "You just disappeared and now you're showing up here. What happened to you?"

"Long story, Jack. You here alone?"

"Yeah."

"What about Hugo?"  
"Hurley? How'd you know he-"

"Is he here or not?" Sawyer couldn't help yelling.

Jack shook his head, "I don't know where he went—he was here this morning, but when I got home from work he was gone."

"Damn." Sawyer leaned against the wall, raking the wet hair away from his eyes.

"What's going on, Sawyer?" Jack drifted closer, "What happened to you?"

"A lot. Busy day for me. Look, I need a place ta' lay low for a night or two. This's th' only place I could think of."

"You just took off today; you didn't even keep your promise t-"

"I'll tell ya' whatever ya' wanna' know now, Jack, 's long as I got the answer."

The doctor looked him over for a long time, and Sawyer simply looked back at him. He didn't know what to think now. His best hope was that somehow, with Jack's help, he could finally sort this mess out. And if he couldn't trust Jack then this was all over. He'd be dead and who knew what would happen to the other six.

"All right, look." Jack touched his shoulder, "Why don't you go sit down on the couch, I'll get you a drink, then I want some answers, all right?"

"You got it." Sawyer tried to smile, but it felt completely shallow. This morning he'd been in a car accident, and then he'd almost died, practically ran all the way to Jack's house. He just wanted to sleep.

Jack smiled back and turned away, going back into the kitchen.

Sawyer wandered into the living room and sank down on the couch, every muscle aching as he sat down for the first time in hours.

"Scotch okay?" Jack called.

"Got anythin' else?"

"Whiskey?"  
"Fine."

Sawyer sat there a while, listening as Jack messed around in the kitchen; eventually he took his coat off and leaned back, closing his eyes. The headache was worse than ever and he was on edge. Every noise seemed to signify danger.

At last, Jack emerged from the kitchen, carrying a glass of alcohol in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.

"Doc." Sawyer moaned, sitting up, "We ain't got time for that."

"Why? You gonna' run off again?" Jack handed him the glass and then sat down next to him.

Sawyer sipped the whiskey. The burn felt good. Just a few more glasses of that and everything would seem better.

Jack poured some peroxide onto a piece of clothe and started to swab the cut above Sawyer's eye.

"Dammit Doc." Sawyer flinched, "What the hell's your problem?"

"My first question is, what in the world happened to you? You didn't take that much damage from the accident this morning."

"Dumb question, Jack. Obviously, I got in a fight." He showed Jack his bloodied knuckles.

Jack regarded them a moment and then went back to cleaning up the cuts on Sawyer's face, "With who?"

Well here it all went. He'd better be able to trust Jack. "Guy named Hudson. He works for the CIA. He's one of the top agents."

"Hudson." Jack looked at him seriously.

"What? That name mean somethin' to ya?"

"My father mentioned him once. He said he's not his boss, but…I don't know. He never explained who he really is."

"He ain't really his boss." Sawyer snorted, "But he'd like ta' think so. Gives orders like he is. Christian's in charge of our little case, but guess Hudson's sorta' presidin' over it in a way."'

"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Think of it this way. If Christian messes up on this case, his real bosses will take him off it and put Hudson on instead. Guess ya' could say they're both workin' on it."

"And Hudson beat you up? Why?"

"Same reason your daddy tried ta' kill me this mornin'."

Jack frowned but said, "Which is?"

"Which is." Sawyer winced as Jack touched the peroxide covered rag to another cut on his face, "'Cause they both think I'm outta' line, I know too much, but as long as I ain't cooperatin', I'm expendable."

"Cooperating with what? You never told me what it is they have you do."

"I'm gettin' to that.

"Coupla' months ago, I'm mindin' my own business, livin' my own life: I hook up with this chick in a bar out in Chicago and she takes me back to her apartment. Well, turns out it was a set up. Next thing I know, I'm sittin' in an interrogation room figurin' all my dirty ways are finally catchin' up with me. 'Cept it turns out it ain't the cops, it's your daddy and this guy Hudson, long with some other wanna' be gunslingers.

"Christian tells me this whole, big, sad story 'bout how somebody's bribed a buncha' CIA agents ta' round up all the Oceanic Seven. 'Course that freaked me out—I'm one of the Oceanic Seven and I'm being arrested by the CIA. Turns out they were what they called "the good guys" and they wanted my help."

Jack stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked at Sawyer seriously, "Your help? With what? Why you?"

"Funny story." Sawyer said bitterly, drinking some more whiskey. "They pull this good cop/bad cop routine with me. Christian tells me they need my help protectin' the others, they wanna' put my skills ta' good use ta' figure out who the double agents are, sells me the whole hero bit.

"Hudson tells it a little differently." Sawyer looked down into the glass for a moment, then muttered, "They got my criminal record, Doc. Don't know how or if they've been watchin' me a while or what, but somehow they knew 'bout everything I've done since we got back from the island, and almost everything I did before we went to the island."

"So they offered you a deal."

"If ya' wanna' call it that. I say they blackmailed me. Hudson said I had ta' help find all the O7 and figure out who's after us, do whatever he and Christian said, or they'd put me in prison, for life."

"So?"

"So I had ta' agree. I'm a lot like Kate: I couldn't sit in some jail cell for a coupla' years, let alone the rest a' my life. So I agreed, started takin' orders from Christian. He partnered me up with this chick agent Hudson had keepin' an eye on you and Kate, told me this girl can't be trusted and that I need ta' figure out if she's legit or not.

"You already know what happened ta' her."

Jack sat there for a moment before venturing, "Emile Rosa?"

Sawyer nodded, "See? You ain't an idiot all the time, Doc."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence. So what happened? Rosa turned out to be a double agent and you shot her?"

Sawyer swished some whiskey around in his mouth, trying to get rid of the taste of blood, "Naw. Few days before we crashed your engagement party I overheard her talkin' on the phone 'bout bringin' in Shephard and Austen. That's about the time me and your daddy started thinkin' Hudson was a double agent and that all the agents workin' under him were too."

"Then, that night at the hotel, she was there to pick us up."

"Right. I followed her there, an' when she saw me." He made a gun with his hand and pointed it at Jack. "Bang. Then we had to take you guys in just in case she was workin' with somebody. Since then, Christian's had me and a few other agents keepin' an eye on you and Kate, lookin' for the others when we can."

"Then you really were at that house to spy on us?"

Sawyer shotgunned the rest of his whiskey, "More or less."

"That still doesn't explain what happened yesterday, or why this Hudson guy beat you up."

"About yesterday…" Sawyer sighed. This was the part of the story he really didn't like. He debated a moment whether he should tell Jack about Ben and Sayid yet but decided not to. Not until he knew what they were really trying to accomplish. "A few days ago, I started thinkin'. Started doubtin' Christian. He wanted ta' get all the Oceanic Seven together, but ain't that exactly what we don't want? Made me think he was playin' me, takin' me for a ride, so I started watchin' my step. Yesterday, I hear him on the phone, talkin' bout me. Next thing I know, they've all got their guns drawn on me."

He sighed again, "Sorry ta' say it, Jack, but best I can tell, your father's a double agent too, and he wants us all dead."

"I don't believe it."

Sawyer couldn't help glaring at him, "Fine, don't believe it. How do ya' explain yesterday then? How dya' explain what he was doin' at the hospital today? Lookin' for me? Just ta' chat? Hudson told me if I messed up again they'd put me in my place. Far as I'm concerned, that's exactly what Christian was doin'." Sawyer got up and paced across the room, glancing out the window once.

"I'm an idiot." He mumbled. "Shoulda' seen from the beginnin' there were no double agents, no good cops, no bad cops, no home team. They were all just usin' me ta' get ta' you guys. Prob'ly some kinda' rival thing between 'em, like whoever finds us all first gets a bonus or a promotion. And I went along with it, just like a goddamn hick."

"You don't know that."

He turned to look at Jack again, "Hudson told me today they were gonna' use me ta' find out where everyone else is. Figure out where Kate is, use her for bait. Kill me later."

"But-"

"There ain't no buts about it, Jack'O. I was played—they were usin' me the whole damn time, and I didn't even know it. Hell, Hudson's prob'ly been waitin' for this opportunity a long time, waitin' for me to realize Christian wasn't on my side any more than he was, waitin' for me ta' be totally alone, then he was gonna' hunt me down and make me sing.

"That's why they really picked me." He turned back to Jack, "They figured I didn't care 'bout the rest of ya', that I'd do whatever it took ta' save my own skin. Even if it meant handin' ya'll over."

Jack was quiet for just a second, and then he shrugged and said simply, "But you didn't."

"Don't matter, it still makes me a liability. Hudson's gonna' keep lookin' for me, and Christian too, and whoever else's involved, and when they find me…" the thought made him feel like he was going to drown in the helplessness all over again, "They _might_ make me do it, Jack."

"No." Jack shook his head.

"What the hell do you know?"

"I know you wouldn't betray us like that."

That trust and that faith made him angry, and he suddenly missed the days when Jack had hated him, "You don't know me, Jack." He said coldly. "They hand me a blank check big enough, they promise me freedom or somethin' else money can't buy…I can't guarantee I'll be able ta' say no."

Jack stood up, glaring, came over to him with that dark look in his eyes, "Then why did you come here?"

"Ta' warn ya', Jack. You don't know where Hugo is, I don't know where Kate is, and it'd be a lot better if I didn't know where _you_ are either. That way, I can't rat ya'll out. That's why, if you're smart, you'll get out of here. Go somewhere. Anywhere. Just 's long as I don't know 'bout it."

Jack looked at him for a long time, right in the eyes, like he was trying to read his mind, then he said, "That's not why you're here."

"What?"  
"I don't believe you, Sawyer. I don't believe you came all this way to tell me I should leave, because you know I won't do it."

"Then what the hell do ya' think I came for?"

"To ask for my help."

Sawyer snorted, "Jack, I wouldn't ask for your help if you were the last thing on the face o this planet."

"Out loud, maybe not. But I think I know you better than you give me credit for, and you care way too much about Kate to just give up."

"Ain't about givin' up-"

"Look." Jack took a step forward. He was starting to sound angry, "Do you want to help Kate and the others or not?"

"Jack-"

"Do you?!"

Slowly, Sawyer nodded.

"Then you're going to have to admit that you came here for my help and listen to me. That's the only way.

"Now look. You don't think we can trust my dad, but I do, and I've known him a hell of a lot longer than you have, so we're going to go according to what I think."

"Fair enough, Cap'n Kirk."

Jack nodded, "Tonight, we're going to lay low, get some rest, then tomorrow we've got to figure out where Hurley is. After that, we're getting to the bottom of this."

Sawyer couldn't help grinning, "Now that's what I like ta' hear."

**Everyone--I'm sorry this is late (what else is new), and I'm sorry to inform you that the next chapter will more than likely be late too. My grandma died on Thanksgiving and I fell behind in all of my classes, and my finals are next week, so I'm out of my mind trying to accomplish everything. I promise I will update this story as soon as possible, but I've got to try to get other things in order first. Thanks for understanding, and for your continued support.**

**~Suta**


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